Incomplete
by lil jake
Summary: Three months after the movie, John pays Angela a visit. Little do they know, Mammon was only the beginning of an ultimate chain of events. JohnAngela.
1. I: Incomplete

Part I: Incomplete

Detective Angela Dodson sighed heavily as she shuffled through a pile of paperwork on her otherwise pristinely kept desk. The sliding-glass doors opened as Officer Kent walked in, dragging a man spitting blood, in handcuffs, behind him. As the two men passed Angela's desk, she felt a wave of blackened sin wash over her, and visions of what this man had done…of who he had killed, and what he'd done to his victims before-hand…she took a deep breath and tried to push the auras of blackness away from her, mentally. It had been three months since she'd truly discovered the power she had, and she'd since realized that it wasn't quite as glamorous or exciting as one might think. Three months since the literal spawn of Satan had tried to push its way through her bodily portal and into the earthly world…three months since she'd solved the mystery of her beloved twin's death…three months since she had spoken to the infamous John Constantine.

She groaned inwardly as she felt a familiar rush of emotion flurry up inside her as the name 'John Constantine' scattered its way across her mind. She looked at her huge stack of files to sort through; she, Angela Dodson, certainly did not have time to be feeling any emotions toward John Constantine. Especially not if he didn't have any intention of having anything to do with her, which he'd made quite clear on the night the son of the Devil had almost succeeded in taking over their world. John had mentioned…rather, pontificated, the benefits of them not seeing each other, and at first she'd thought he was simply terrified of the idea that he might be finding someone to be close to on this planet. Angela knew, that as an ostracized walker-between-the-worlds of the living and the dead, John couldn't have had much reason or desire to grow close to anybody, and she could forgive his fear. But it was only after she had left him standing on the roof, gazing over the cityline, and he hadn't come after her…that she'd realized it wasn't him, it wasn't the situation, the world, or even the underworld keeping them apart. It was her. She had fallen into an unrequited cycle of near-love, and it was never going to end. So, she did the only thing she could do, to save her pride and whatnot. She drove into her work. Which, of course, was exactly what she was doing at this very moment, before her train of thought had been oh-so-unceremoniously derailed by fantasies of the notorious John Constantine.

Now that she thought about it, she actually had no idea what had happened to him, anyway. For all she knew, he could be halfway around the world now, enjoying his newfound freedom, his third-time-renewed chance at life. In fact, that's probably what he _was_ doing; after all, there was nothing for him here. She couldn't quite see him relaxing on the sunbathed beaches of Australia, however, so perhaps he'd made his way somewhere along the French Riviera. Yes, that was probably it. And she was here, stuck in Los Angeles, behind a monstrous stack of papers, leading the very same mundane life she had been before he'd inserted himself right in the middle of it and stirred things up. Well, she'd been doing the same thing for almost thirty years now, so it couldn't be all that hard to continue with, could it?

_After all, _she thought sullenly to herself, _It's not like I need him…I have myself…my cat…my…lonely apartment…_

Angela sighed. Oh well, there was no use in looking back and regretting things now. Anyway, she had a date tonight, with a lovely man who worked on the second floor of the station, Jason Grey. He was an attractive man, she supposed, with dark blonde hair and green eyes, and he stammered quite a bit when she was around him, and she was certain they could go to dinner, get to know each other, and get along fabulously. Yes, that's right. Fabulously.

_Take that, John Constantine. I have a date, and we get along fab-u-lous-ly._

"Detective Dodson, are you almost done with those files?" Angela snapped out of her reverie, glancing quickly up at the towering man above her.

"Chief Marsden! Uh…yes…hold on," She scrambled to scoop up the shuffle of papers in front of her, "Here they are, I've, uh, looked through them all, and I think that…there is…no evidence…that is…apparent, to convict the criminal…just yet…"

Marsden raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, "There isn't? I could've sworn that I saw a paper stating…"

"Well…I haven't been getting a lot of sleep. So, you should probably have Detective Brantz take a look at it as…well, because I'm feeling somewhat…dizzy."

"Oh? Well, you do look a bit pale…why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off, and see how you're feeling tomorrow," Marsden gave her a concerned look, "And get some sleep, Angela."

"Of course, thank you, sir." Angela snapped her laptop shut and pushed it into her briefcase, thankful for a break from the mind-numbing work she'd been catering to for the past three months straight. Three months since…_oh, no, don't you dare go down that road, Angela Dodson, _she mentally warned herself.

* * *

Angela unlocked the door to the apartment as Jason stood behind her. She turned to him, smiling graciously, "Thank you for walking me to my apartment, Jason."

"My pleasure."

She had found the date to be surprisingly pleasant, and Jason to be completely stammer-free in the non-station environs. In fact, Jason had been a suave, almost oily-smooth, complete gentleman the entire evening. Angela slowly pushed the door back open behind her, as she smiled charmingly at Jason. He didn't appear to be moving. Perhaps he wanted a kiss? She smiled, and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, "Well, I'll…see you tomorrow, I suppose." She finished nervously. Jason smiled at her. She smiled back. Why wasn't he leaving?

"Can I come in?"

Angela glanced at him, startled, "Well…um…of course, I'll make us some coffee."

"Thanks."

And with that, he followed her into her apartment, and she heard him close the door quietly behind him. She made her way slowly into the kitchen, and filled the coffeemaker with water, flicking the switch on. When she turned around, he was nearly in her face. Angela giggled nervously, "Um, Jason, I don't think you—" He cut her words off with a deep kiss. Her eyes stayed wide open, and he pulled away, presumably because she wasn't responding.

"Jason! I don't think—"

"Hush," he whispered, and kissed her again, "You're a very beautiful woman, Angela Dodson…and almost thirty—" She let out a squeak of indignation, "…and not married?"

"Jason, I really don't think that you have any right to—" He covered her mouth with his hand, his green eyes flashing with lustful desire.

"Angela, I think I…love you."

"Mmmfmfmfffmfflll!"

"Angela, I, think, I," He punctuated each word with soft kisses, "Want, you, now…"

His hand moved up her blouse. So, she did what any self-respecting woman would do. She brought her knee up, hard.

"SHIT! YOU LITTLE _BITCH_!" Jason hissed, not releasing his grip on her.

"Let GO of ME!" Angela yelled, kneeing him again, and the kicking him in the stomach as he sank to the floor. Suddenly there was an echo of footsteps running from her bedroom. Her eyes widened in terror. In the past three months, she had often awoken, after being dragged—literally—through Hell and back, to the echo of mysterious footsteps in her apartment. She assumed it was some sort of demonic creature from the underworld, but she'd never come face to face with it, though it seemed she was about to, now. And, she glanced at Jason, still writhing on the floor in pain, it looked like she was on her own.

She grabbed a butcher knife from a drawer and held it ready to throw at whatever was making the footsteps when the kitchen door burst open and a weary-looking, bloodied John Constantine slammed through it. Angela gave a little gasp and the knife clattered to the counter. John swept a lock of dark hair out of his eyes, and gave her a quick once-over, panting from his dash from the bedroom.

"What are you doing here?" Angela gaped.

"Long story." Constantine regained his composure and straightened to his full height, "Demons, you, I wanted to…explain why your bedroom was such a mess."

She tilted her head curiously and then took in his appearance—dark hair mussed, shirt halfway unbuttoned and jacket torn, holy shotgun dangling from his left hand, "What? Demons…here?"

"Yes…they've been a few times…like I said before…there's no going back. You see them, they see you. End of story. Who's he?"

She nodded slightly at his explanation, "So that explains the dreams I've been having…he's my date."

John gave her an incredulous look, "Your…_date_?"

Angela shot him an indignant glare, "Yes, my _date_. I do _date_, you know. I am a single, attractive, twenty-eight year-old woman, I have many qualities _many_ people would look for in a life mate, I cook, I clean, I can shoot accurately from one-hundred yards…"

John held up his hand, "Yes, yes, spare me. Well," he glanced at the man on the floor, who was currently looking at both of them with a somewhat terrified look on his face, "I'll let you get back to your…_date_." He took in Angela's un-tucked blouse and sounded disgusted with himself, "Sorry to interrupt." And with that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Angela picked up the butcher knife and mused quietly as she watched him go. Jason picked himself off the floor, looked at Angela and her knife nervously, meekly whispered good-bye, and fled. Angela sighed, putting the knife back into the drawer, and wrapped her arms around herself. She could hear John in the other room, gathering his stuff, and she gulped. She listened quietly as the door to her bedroom clicked closed, and then the door to her apartment.

She trudged silently into her bedroom, and sighed. It really was a mess, everything scattered everywhere…but she had no desire, or even the energy to be shocked or dismayed, so instead she walked to the closet, pulled out a woolen blanket and extra pillow, and went over to lay down on the couch. As she lay silently staring at the ceiling, she blinked back what felt like it might be a tear. She hadn't cried since her sister died. She hadn't cried in three months.

She remembered the look of betrayal in John's eyes, and the disgusted tone of his voice—not disgusted with her, but disgusted with _himself_…and she began to sob, the tears falling relentlessly, streaming silently down her cheeks and onto her pillow as she slowly, painfully cried herself to sleep. There were no second chances, as far as trust went, with John. She knew that.

* * *

She awoke nearly an hour later, with the soft click of her apartment door, and it was then that she realized, too late, that she hadn't locked it when John had left. Sitting up, adrenaline pulsing through her veins, she slowly stood, reaching for her gun. The door to her living room opened slowly, and she held the thin blanket against her camisole-and-underwear pajamas, steadying her gun at the door.

"Angela."

She simultaneously breathed a sigh of tense relief, and felt a wash of emotional battering come over her once more. Remembering the pain of him leaving, she choked back a sob—she would not let this man see her cry. His tall figure was silhouetted against the hall light, and she slowly put down her gun and reached over to turn on a table lamp. The sudden flush of light reminded her that she was wearing next to nothing, her face tear-streaked and the remains of her make up probably running down her face. She gulped. And looked at him. He looked so…imposing…so tall, and undeniably gorgeous. And…tired. He looked weary. _Well, he should look weary, serves him right, _she couldn't help thinking, spitefully. He also looked…dangerous.

"Angela, he wasn't your boyfriend."

She blinked, "What? What, how do you know?"

He paused, "Well. You probably wouldn't yell at your boyfriend to get off you."

"Well…well what if it was…a game?" She searched desperately for some excuse to not look like a complete fool in front of this man. In a matter of seconds John had crossed the room and was standing directly in front of her, towering over her. She felt tiny, scrutinized under a microscope, gazing up at him, but she held her ground as best she could, "I don't see why it's any of your business, John, who I choose to date, or not. So, please leave."

"You don't mean that."

"I…what? Of course I do."

John studied her intently for a moment, as if trying to comprehend her, as if trying to decide what to do with her. It took him all of that minute to decide what to do with her, and the next thing she knew, he wrapped one muscular arm about her waist and dragged her roughly to him, leaning down and slanting his mouth across hers. His kiss was harsh, demanding, possessive…and she melted. Had he not been supporting her, she would have sunk into a puddle at his feet. He pulled away, then, as abruptly as he'd started it. She gazed up at him, wonderingly.

"He's not," John kissed her again, fiercely, "your," his other arm snaked around her waist and held her tightly to him, lifting her slightly to the balls of her feet, "_boyfriend_."

"No…" Angela whispered lightly, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his muscled chest, "he's not."

John buried his face in her shoulder-length hair, "Thank god," he whispered, sinking onto the couch and pulling her with him.

"John, I—" He cut her off with an ardent kiss, and then put his finger to her lips, gently.

"Angela, I'm sorry I haven't been around, at all, lately, I've had some things to take care of. This is my last chance at life, and I can't mess it up. But…" He paused, and she saw him swallow audibly, "This might scare you, but I don't think I can…this chance I have…um…it's…fuckit. I love you, Angela Dodson. I love you so _fucking_ much. Don't ever, ever question that." He held her back and gulped, waiting for some reaction.

Angela looked into his intense brown eyes and began to sob.

"Angela? Angela, I didn't mean to upset you…I can leave, I can…"

"No," she whispered into his chest, "No, don't you ever fucking leave me, John Constantine. Don't you ever fucking leave me, ever again. I fucking love you, too."

"Why, Angela Dodson, I believe that's the first time I've ever heard you swear…you kiss your mother with that mouth?" John smirked. Angela smiled through her tears, and swatted him playfully, "No," she whispered, kissing him ferociously, "I kiss you."

"Well," he whispered, "I won't complain, then."


	2. II: The Morning After

More by popular demand (well…not really. But still. More because I had an...epiphany, shall we call it? As for my other fic, that some of you might have read, I took it down b/c I'm thinking of somehow incorporating it into this one. So, for everyone who's already met Jade Constantine, all the better for you. And this is way too long for a paren--)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

* * *

Part II: The Morning After

Angela extricated herself from John Constantine's arms at about seven-thirty am, fifteen minutes before her alarm was set to ring. Yawning, she sat on the side of the couch and turned to gaze down at John while he slept. The hard lines of his face were softened in face, and though she'd never liken him to a fallen angel…having seen one, and all…he was getting pretty darn close to angelic with his dark hair tousled and one arm flung behind his head carelessly, the other still laying where she had tried not to move it. She felt a foolish grin spread over her face as she watched him; inwardly knowing this was going to be the best day of her life…well, thus far, anyway.

As if feeling her gaze upon him, John opened one dark brown eye slowly and peered at her.

Before he could speak, she grinned, "Good morning, sunshine!" and dropped a kiss on his cheek. He mumbled in reply, asking, for what she could make of it, what time it was.

"Seven-thirty-two." She replied cheerfully. John gave her the worst glare ever, grunted, and turned over, fluffing his pillow and promptly falling back asleep. She chuckled, and made her way to the kitchen to start making some coffee. Approximately thirteen minutes later she listened as her alarm went off, John made some inhuman noise of frustration, and there was a loud crash, "Oh—kay…definitely not a morning person…check." Angela said softly to herself, though, if she had John for keeps, he was definitely worth a new alarm clock.

* * *

A couple of minutes later, a very disgruntled-looking John Constantine came walking into her kitchen, wearing nothing but his boxers. He moved over to where she was standing, and, not taking his eyes off hers, reached behind her and pulled a coffee-cup out of the cupboard. He leaned back against the counter, and poured himself some coffee, putting the cup to his mouth and drinking it, continuing to look at her with large, brown eyes. He drained one cup and poured himself another, clearing his throat before drinking, "Sorry about anything strange I said last night. I think I was a little drunk." 

Angela raised one eyebrow at him, and poured herself a cup of coffee, "But you still love me, right?"

John paused, swallowing his coffee, "Of course I still love you. Just don't expect declarations like that all the time." He gulped the rest down.

Angela grinned back at him—who had this much energy in the morning to keep grinning like that? John thought—, "Don't worry," she set her mug down on the counter and grabbed an apple, biting voraciously into it, "I have work at nine, what are you doing? Do you work?"

John looked indignant as he watched her tongue dart out and lick the corners of her mouth, where the apple juice was starting to dribble down her chin, "Of course I work…just…not in the morning." He groaned as he looked at the clock, and Angela giggled lightly, taking another bite of the apple. John studied her for a moment, as she stood, wearing her camisole and panty set, licking the apple juice from the corner of her lips. He looped one finger through the waistband of her panties and pulled her 'til she was standing between his legs, angling his head down and kissing her soundly, "On second thought, maybe you should get used to declarations like last night."

Angela giggled again, and kissed him quickly back. John started to deepen it, when she pulled away. He gave her a questioning look, and she shrugged, "Work. I have to shower."

John quirked one eyebrow and pulled her in for another kiss. Angela protested, but only mildly.

Ten minutes later, Angela pushed John gently back as he continued to press kisses against her collarbone, "John…" She laughed helplessly, "I really, really have to get to work…"

"Fuck work." He muttered into her neck.

Angela laughed again, "No, John, fuck me, not work."

She could feel him smile against her chest, "Funny girl."

Suddenly, his arms around her waist tightened, pulling her to his side. She stiffened—he seemed to have a sixth sense about things…no, wait, he was psychic. He _did_ have a sixth sense about things…but wait a minute…so was she! Angela tried to push her psychic powers out into the room, but she just couldn't seem to sense what John had. A voice materialized as if from nowhere, "John, John, John. I _tried_ to give you some privacy, but God, man, do you two _ever breathe_!" Angela felt John's arm loosen slightly. She turned to see who the speaker was.

"Chas." John nodded amusedly, "Aren't you dead?"

"Ouch, man. Yes," Chas heaved a deep sigh, "But look what _I_ got!" He folded and unfolded the monstrous wings experimentally.

John rolled his eyes, pushing past Chas into the living room, and Angela gave Chas a small smile in mute greeting, "Hey…Chas…Want some coffee?" She offered him a procured cup, and he took it excitedly, taking a long sip as John reappeared, pulling on his black pants as he tossed Angela's white bathrobe at her. She caught the offered robe and tightened the tie around her waist, glancing through the open bedroom door and reminding herself to ask, later, what exactly had happened there, as John started buttoning up his shirt, "So, Chas," John continued buttoning, speaking without ever looking at the angel—who was content with sipping his coffee and flexing his wings, "Why are you here?"

Chas shrugged, and set his coffee on the counter, "Vacation?"

"Try again, kid."

"Oh, alright…I'm on a mission…from God." Chas paused dramatically, allowing his wings to unfold as much as they could in the cramped kitchen space.

"Less drama, keep going," John yanked his tie around his neck, and Angela started putting mugs in the dishwasher.

"Well, I actually don't know very much…anything…really…I'm lower-rank, they don't tell me much…anything, really. I'm just supposed to help you," Chas shrugged, and emptied his coffee, offering the empty mug to Angela, who placed it next to the others in the dishwasher.

"What," John snorted, "Like my guardian angel?"

Chas laughed, "No, John. Just like someone to help out. Like what I was before. Your slave."

"You mean, apprentice."

"Call it what you want, John, if that helps you sleep at night. Anyway, I got a tip-off that Papa Midnite might know what's going on…" Chas paused, musing over what had just come out of his mouth, and it dawned on him slowly, "Wait…wait, John, I'm a half-breed, now…right? Wow! I can get into Papa Midnite's now on my _own_!" Chas was nearly jumping with excitement at the prospect.

John rolled his eyes, "They just don't make 'em like you anymore, thank. God."

Angela smiled at Chas's display of undeniable teenage-boy enthusiasm and started to excuse herself for a quick shower, when she felt someone grab her hand. She looked back and found John gripping her wrist. She watched a flurry of emotions tumble through his dark eyes, until he pulled her to him and kissed her, hard. She melted into the kiss, but he pulled back abruptly, "Work." He shrugged, and left in a whirl of trench coat and wings.

* * *

John Constantine walked briskly along the broken sidewalks of LA, his hands in his pockets, trench coat billowing behind him, and excited teenage-angel-boy jumping about excitedly and discussing the prospect of getting into Papa Midnite's club on his own. And, John mused as he cast a sidelong glance at his friend, the aforementioned angel-boy appeared to be discussing all this with thin air. 

"So what is it, John, bear on a table? How do you know? Do I get some sort of membership card that tells me? How do I find out what it's going to be?"

John rolled his eyes, "Chas. Stop. Just…stop."

"But how will I knooooooowwwww?" Chas whined.

John shrugged, "You'll know."

"Oh." Chas seemed slightly disappointed with the answer, "But…wait, John, where are we going?"

John, too preoccupied to talk, nodded in the direction of the old bowling alley.

"Home? _Home?_ I thought we were going to Midnite's!"

John put one hand to his head, massaging his temples, "Shower. Change. Work."

"Huh. Oh, alright, John, fine, I guess you don't see the true urgency of the situation. That's okay. I can accept that. But _I'm _already dead."

John flung a glance at him, "'True urgency'?"

Chas sighed, "Not that I know what the true urgency is, just that it is…truly urgent."

John shook his head to clear his thoughts and bounded up the stairs to his apartment. He picked up a couple of letters that had been slipped under his door, opening the first as he walked into the room. He scanned the contents quickly, taking in the words, and then turned to Chas.

"Change of plans. Not Midnite's tonight. I need to shower, can you get the car? You _do_ still drive, right?"

Chas looked somewhat crestfallen, but sighed, "Of course, what else would I do around you?"

"Good." John nodded curtly and headed off to the bathroom, tossing the letter on the counter. Chas picked it up and skimmed it.

* * *

_Dear Mr. John Constantine,_

_It is with the deepest sympathy that we regret to inform you of your parents' recent death due to a tragic automobile accident. At the time of the crash, your father, David, was killed immediately upon impact, while your mother, Sandra, managed to hold on until an ambulance could get to her, but she died, tragically, on her way to the hospital. The cause of the accident is believed to be the fault of a slightly inebriated truck driver, as well as the extreme conditions in which both drivers were operating. This unfortunate news is no doubt a shock to you, however, as the eldest son, you are required to come to the reading of the will, scheduled today at three o'clock pm. Those attending will be your only living Uncle, Michael A. Constantine, and your younger sister, Jade S. Constantine. It will be at this time the primary caretaker of Jade will be decided, as she is still seventeen, and a minor. You have priority based on the Will, to her custody, but in the case that you are unwilling or unable, Mr. Michael Constantine will take over._

_Thank you, and my sincerest regrets,_

_Adrienne F. Mableton,_

_Attorney at Law,_

_Mableton and Wellesley Law Firm, Los Angeles, California_

_

* * *

_

Wow, everyone, you know what would make you feel better about your life? **REVIEWING**!_  
_


	3. III: Jaded

Part III: Jaded

Chas pulled the old taxi up to the curb in front of the Mableton and Wellesley Law office, switching off the ignition and unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Oh, no, kid, you're staying in the car," John held upa hand as he unbuckled his own belt and opened the passenger-side door.

"But…" Chas gave John a deflated-pity expression, but John shook his head.

"It's just politics, anyway. Read a book," John dumped one of the books from the dashboard onto Chas's lap and shut the door. Chas glanced down at it, reading the sideways-title ironically: _Guide to Angels and other Heavenly Creatures._ He laid the book back on the dashboard, leaned back, turned on the radio, and waited for John to finish with his business.

* * *

John walked briskly into the office, checking his wristwatch: 2:59 pm. The blonde sitting at the front desk let out an indignant gasp as he strode past her, and pushed through the thick oak door without a knock or warning. He was not surprised to find three people already seated in the room—presumably, the lawyer and reader of the will, and the two people, aside from himself, the aforementioned will affected: his younger sister and his uncle. He hadn't seen his sister since he'd moved out when he was eighteen and she was a newborn, and he hadn't seen his uncle at all, except briefly at his sixth birthday party. His family wasn't particularly…close. John seated himself in the remaining chair facing a large desk, and waved his hand in a 'proceed' motion. Adrienne Mableton raised her eyebrows at the presumptuous newcomer, "John Constantine, I presume?" 

"Yes," John replied curtly. Adrienne peered at him for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to make of the situation, but ended up deciding against further questioning and continued with the reading. John stared mutely out the window as the reading continued, not even sparing a glance at either of his relations. Thoughts of Angela flickered through his mind until he was broken from his reverie by the voice of Counselor Mableton.

"Mr. Constantine? John, Constantine?"

"Huh—what?" John snapped out of his thoughts, "Sorry, what was that?" Mentally, he wondered when he'd ever gotten so distracted before.

He glanced around the room. Adrienne peered at him expectantly, the girl sitting next to him—Jade, rather—was leaning back, with her eyes closed, tapping an unconscious rhythm on the armrest of her chair, and his uncle—Michael—kept his stony gaze on the floor, though he looked about to say something.

"Mr. Constantine, will you be taking your sister into your custody?"

John stared stoically at the lawyer, "No. I don't have time or money for a teenager."

"So, she will be taken into the custody of Mr. Michael Constantine. He's already agreed, so we just need you to sign a couple of forms."

"Yeah, sure," John took the black pen Adrienne held out to him, and put it to the paper when he felt a cold gust of air wash over him. He glanced up quickly, but Adrienne, Michael, and Jade were unmoved, "A bit cold in here, isn't it?"

Adrienne gave him an incredulous stare he assumed meant something along the lines of _what-the-fuck-we're-in-LA-and-it's-almost-June_, but reached up to turn the thermostat, nonetheless. John shrugged, and started to loop the pen across the paper when another gust of cold hit him, this time, strong enough for him to feel where it was coming from…and he was almost certain it was coming from somewhere over his right shoulder. He turned to Jade, who was sitting on his right side. She was still drumming her fingers, eyes closed. He looked at his arm. Goosebumps. He looked at hers. She was wearing a tight black tank top with cracked silver gothic scripting across the chest. It rode up slightly, allowing a glimpse of her silver bellybutton ring in the shape of the Sagittarius zodiac symbol—an arrow. Her skin was smooth and flawless—no goose bumps. If he wasn't mistaken, she hadn't even felt the blast.

Jade felt his eyes on her. Slowly, she raised her head from where it had been tentatively resting on the back of the chair—damn, and she had almost been asleep, too—and opened dark-lashed brown eyes. She saw her own piercing brown eyes staring back at her. John's narrowed, as if he were trying to solve an enigma. Well, she certainly wasn't one. Seventeen, tragically orphaned—not that she hadn't been on her way to a parentless existence before that—and meeting her older brother for the first time. She watched his brow crinkle in a flash of confusion, before it pulled back to its normal state—apparently; confusion was not something one should see on the face of John Constantine. _Whatever_. She thought to herself, _Fuck this_. She didn't need anyone, she'd gotten to that point by now, and she was perfectly comfortable on her own. But, loathe as she was to admit it, she had to walk out of this office in the custody of someone—she didn't have to stay in that custody, necessarily—and she'd decided before John had even walked into the room that she wasn't going anywhere with her supposed 'uncle'. There was something uncomfortable about him—something dark and uncomfortable—there was something…not comfortable about John, but at least a balanced indifference. She could live with that, for as long as she had to. This, hopefully, wouldn't be more than forty-eight hours.

John watched as his sister slowly opened her eyes, and almost imperceptibly flicked the irises to a point behind him. If he'd blinked, or even focused on her face, he wouldn't have noticed it. But he was John Constantine, and he prided himself on calculating observation. He shifted in his seat, until he was facing the sheaf of papers again, his signature half-scrawled on the top page. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Michael Constantine methodically flipped a coin in the air—catching it, turning it over, and flipping it up again.

John shuffled the papers, and re-capped the pen, "On second thought, maybe I will take custody of her. Could use someone around the place, need some help, anyway." He muttered, more to himself and Jade than anyone. A small half-smile quirked his upper lip as he saw what he had been looking for—a flash of fluorescent green slithered over the damn half-breed's irises, and Michael gripped the coin hard in his hand.

Adrienne smiled, "That's wonderful, Mr. Constantine. Well, that's all that needed immediate settling; I still need to wade through some ambiguous bits of the will to properly assess the distribution of assets, so I'll need to get back to you on that. A recent phone number would be helpful…?"

John scribbled the bowling alley number across the top sheet quickly, as Michael cleared his throat, "Does John have the proper accommodations and monetary assets necessary to give Jade a…proper home?" His voice was strained, but thickly slick, as oil sliding over glass.

John was halfway to the door, and didn't bother to turn around, "Jade." He nodded out the window, where the taxi sat, idling, as Chas appeared to be speaking to himself in the mirror.

Jade raised one eyebrow at the command, but picked up a slashed brown leather suitcase and ratty-looking pet carrier, whose inhabitant yowled unceremoniously as it was disturbed. John's and Michael's heads both jerked in its direction, and John coughed, "You have a…cat?"

"Isis." Jade said tersely, "Though I don't know why some people—" her eyes flickered toward Adrienne, "—Insist upon her being put in such inhumane conditions. Problem?"

John shrugged, "Love cats."

Jade opened the metal door of the cage, and a black cat with one blue and one green eye sleeked out, jumping into her waiting arms. The cat crawled up to where it was resting on her shoulder, and hissed in Michael's direction. Michael studiously avoided the subtle assault, but gripped his coin harder than before.

John strode out the door, Jade in tow. She left the rusty pet carrier in Adrienne's office. Michael gritted his teeth, but said nothing.

* * *

"…Kramer, asshole. _ASSHOLE. _Asshole. ASS—" 

"Chas!"

"—Yo!"

"Pop the trunk. Start the car."

Chas blinked at the brightness of the outside world, through the passenger window where John was currently speaking to him. He reached down for the trunk release and glanced over John's shoulder and saw an attractive girl walking around to the trunk with a suitcase in tow. And a black cat curled around her neck like her necklace.

"Who's the girl, John? She's kind of cute—"

John held up a warning hand, "Sister."

Chas blinked, remembering the letter. He couldn't see any resemblance—aside from them both being tall and slender, with dark hair and eyes, that is. John was hardened, jaded, and, in general, an asshole. This girl looked…well, not so much. She looked like she had a nice smile, one that she might even use often—

"FUCK!" Jade slammed the trunk shut, but the cat around her neck didn't move, and walked around to the side of the car, pulling something out of her pocket. Both John's and Chas's eyes were on her as she pushed a cigarette through her lips and extracted a silver lighter from her pocket. It took her a couple of tries, but she finally lit the cigarette, took a long drag, and breathed out, looking considerably more relaxed.

"Your sister." Chas said flatly, nodding to himself.

It was a statement, not a question, nor the beginning of anything more complex. Jade yanked open a back door and dumped herself in the back seat of the car. John rolled his eyes and cuffed him over the back of the head, "Drive." Chas turned off the radio, pushing the car into neutral as John twisted in his seat, one long arm reaching back and plucking the cigarette from his sister's lips. Jade protested, quite loudly, and in quite atrocious French. Chas muttered something to himself, and John scrutinized the cigarette. Chas muttered _another_ something and reached over, yanking the cigarette from John's hands and tossing it out his still-open window.

Brother and sister looked at him, so Chas shrugged, "Smoking kills."

"Like you would know," Jade mumbled under her breath, amidst the colorful string of French, Greek, and Latin curse words she had been emitting—John's sister, indeed, Chas thought. Jade pulled the pack out of her pocket, reaching for another one when John grabbed it and threw it, as well, out the window.

"Actually, he wouldn't, but trust me—the warning on the box? It's not a lie." John popped a piece of gum in his mouth and stared out the window. Chas let his foot ease not-so-gently onto the gas pedal, _this is going to be _so much _fun, _he thought to himself.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed: **Evelyn Valerious **Salienne de Lioncourt **mummy lover** vtangelchix **Vampirehelsing **Silverbloodrain **Detroit **Jay-Trusedale **RuledBySecrecy **MP** Legion Fardreamer  
**

I don't usually do little author notes, but you guys are awesome! Jay-Trusedale and RuledBySecrecy, especially, it's great to hear that you liked it even as die-hard Chastine fans (which, I'm not, myself, a fan of)!

Thanks for **REVIEWING**!


	4. IV: Whipped

Part IV: Whipped

Angela breezed into the precinct that day, and Chief Marsden smiled and commented on how much a good night's sleep had obviously done her. She nodded it off, seating herself at her desk somewhat awkwardly—did nobody think she hadn't noticed them sneaking surreptitious glances at her and wondering if she was okay since her sister's death. Marsden was overly sympathetic, always insisting she take off as much time as she needed to mourn Isobel's passing, despite that she maintained that she was perfectly capable of doing her job, and needed no more vacation time. And, she really didn't. Isobel was in Heaven, now, and there was nothing _to_ mourn. Angela smiled to herself, tugging her white shirt down at the hem—remembering how she'd had to tiptoe through her chaotic bedroom to dress herself. She reminded herself to ask John exactly what he'd been doing in there—what he'd been talking about when he meant 'demons'. Mammon was back in Hell, and without that power, no demons could cross the planes…correct? Angela definitely smelt something fishy there, but even the prospect of evil demons from Hell couldn't ruin her mood.

* * *

The three occupants of the taxicab sat in rigid silence, Chas driving, John staring straight ahead, and Jade stroking Isis. John cut the quiet, "Take a right." 

"Thank _you_, John," Chas muttered, and switched the radio on. Traces of Dave Matthews echoed through the car, and Jade finally appeared fed up.

"Let's not bother with the façade," her voice was acerbic, "And let me out."

John didn't turn, but Chas flicked his gaze at her through the rearview mirror. John didn't speak. Chas cleared his throat, "She's got a point, John. Why are we bothering?"

John continued to stare straight ahead, "There are some things I need to figure out. Jade is a minor. She's in my custody."

Chas nodded, trust his mentor not to give any actual reasons for what he was doing, and Jade rolled her eyes.

"What, a minor for, the next six months? Not like I'm not totally capable of being on my own."

Chas glanced at her again in the rearview mirror—she really was pretty, too bad she had the mouth and attitude of her older brother. And, to think, they hadn't even been raised together. Guess family ties really do count. Jade's brown eyes met Chas's hazel ones for a brief second, and he could have sworn he saw her shudder, and then shake her head as if to clear her head. Well, wasn't that nice—he didn't think he was _that_ scary. Chas sighed, and pulled up onto the curb outside the apartment, opening the door. John got out, as well, but Jade stayed where she was, as if debating on whether or not to follow acquiescently to the apartment or make a run for it. Finally, she opened the door closest to the curb and stepped out, as well—Chas figured she'd realized that if not pleasant, life with John—for the time being, anyway—would at least guarantee some sort of security and stability.

* * *

Jade gazed quietly up at the old bowling alley as the taxi driving kid gallantly grabbed her bag from the trunk and bounded into the building. She had been debating on whether or not to stay with John or make a run for it, but in the end, she figured that life with John would at least allow for some security and stability. And she didn't particularly feel like living off garbage for the next few months, so she might as well. Either way, it didn't really matter—it wasn't like her life was really going anywhere. She'd had her parents, but even in the later teenage years with her parents, there'd been an unspoken tension that hovered about the house. And now…well, now she didn't even have that familiar—however unpleasantly abject—tension about. Jade gulped down what might have been a tear, if she ever cried. And she didn't. Not unless…no, just…never. 

The taxi driving kid was standing next to her. He'd presumably taken her bag into the building and come out to guide her in upon realizing that she wasn't following him. What was his name, anyway? Jade decided to ask, "What's your name, anyway?"

"Chas," Chas replied, giving her a tentative smile, "The apartment's on the second floor. I think John's already up there…probably muttering to himself in Latin, or whatever John does." Chas began walking, and this time she followed.

Whatever John does, indeed. John Constantine was an enigma she wasn't sure she wanted to uncover the truth of. Related to her? Hardly. But there was an aura around him that screamed a lot of bitter regret, hardened cynicism, and…well, something Jade couldn't quite put her finger on. Even if she was going to be sharing house with this man, she felt no obligation to know or relate to him—as she was sure he felt none toward her. She always knew she had an older brother—though not explicitly. It had never been a source of pride for her parents, and she often felt that perhaps she was born into this world to succeed where he didn't. Where he couldn't, according to her parents.

Jade followed Chas up the stares and through a doorframe marked with odd patterns and symbols. A large, single room, lined with empty plastic water bottles. At the end of the room were a double bed and a faded, cracked red leather chair. An ancient wooden table, kitchenette area, and the shadow of a hallway were between them and the bed. John came walking out of another part of the apartment—the part where Jade assumed the hallway to be, and ran one hand through his dark hair. He motioned behind him, "Bathroom. Extra room, we can set that up as a bedroom for you later. Tonight you're sleeping on the couch. Chas, floor."

Chas looked more than slightly offended, but John shrugged, "Or go find someplace else, you have wings."

Chas had wings?—_Riiight__, John. No wonder Mom and Dad thought you were slightly off your rocker, _Jade thought, dismissing that last comment with little confusion. She dropped Isis onto the counter, and walked over to where her suitcase was, picking it up and walking toward the bathroom.

"Towels in the cupboard," John called after her.

* * *

John sat at the table, sipping vodka and musing to himself, while Chas sat across from him, pouring over a book on ancient curses. _Just like old times, _John regarded Chas bemusedly, who was stuffing pretzels down his throat and scrunching his eyebrows in concentration. Chas looked up, "What?" 

"Have you noticed anything strange about Jade?" John took the opportunity to ask.

"Um. No. Aside from her being the female version of you." Chas started to return to his book but John's steady gaze stopped him, "Why?"

John turned his empty glass over and rested his hand on it, frustrated, "I don't know. I…just…don't know."

"The great John Constantine doesn't know something," Chas teased, "Let me call the papers!"

John glared, "No, but I think something's going on. I walked into that office today and there was a half-breed sitting next to me. I…didn't even notice. Not until the very end."

"It's okay, John, senility gets all of us, eventually…"

"Chas. The half-breed was my uncle. And he wanted Jade. Pretty…badly, but I don't think he wanted to make a scene. I've talked to Michael before. Last time I did, he _wasn't_ a half-breed."

Chas looked thoughtful, "Do you think he died?"

John shook his head, "No…I don't know if it was my uncle, at all."

Chas nodded, "Well, we can always go to Midnite's." He attempted to sound nonchalant and casual. John flipped the glass back over and poured himself some more vodka, "I was going to suggest that, and I know you really want to go…but I need Midnite to see Jade. And I don't think she…can."

"Why not? She _is_ your sister."

"Not everyone is born with the 'gift'." John shook his head, "I don't need Midnite on my case about anything, either. I'll go talk to him tonight. We can take her tomorrow." With that, John downed his vodka and walked over to his dresser, pulling some money out of one of the drawers. He grabbed his trench coat and pulled it on, heading for the door.

"Wait…where are you going?" Chas inquired, "Midnite's? So early?"

John rolled his eyes, "I'm going to stop by Angela's. See if she wants dinner."

Chas gave him a wounded look, "But you don't want to know if _I_ want dinner? What about Jade?"

John slapped a twenty on the table, "Get a pizza. Stay here with her."

Chas sighed, "Sure, John, fine. Wha-pashaaaaa," he muttered the last part under his breath, halfway through making a 'whipped' motion when Jade stepped out of the bath. Which was probably a good thing, because John looked like he was ready to kill Chas, despite Chas's already-deceased state. Jade was wrapped in a towel, wringing her almost-waist length hair out. Chas stared.

"Do you have a hairdryer?"

John blinked at her.

"Oh-kay…no." Jade finished wringing her hair out, leaving a considerable puddle on the floor, and turned to walk back into the bathroom.

John smacked Chas upside the head, and called out to Jade, "Jade?"

"Yeah?"

John pointed to himself, and then to Chas, "Guy. Guy. Get a bathrobe." Jade raised an eyebrow at his flat tone, but gave him a mock-salute and returned to the bathroom. John gave one last warning glance at Chas, who raised his hands in mock-surrender, before striding out the door.

* * *

Sorry, that was pretty short. I think you probably oughta **review** and tell me to make 'em longer. Haha. 

**Decently important Author's Note:**

Okay, guys, I actually have a plan, and I think it's a pretty good one. So just hear me out. I have a lot of this story written, and I want to get it posted as much as you want to read it, but I kind of feel like a loser uploading fifteen chapters at once, SO, here is the deal: As soon as I get ten+ reviews for this chapter, I'll post the next one--earlier than I would have posted it otherwise. HOWEVER, this does not mean there needs to be ten reviews for me to post the next chapter (I hate when authors do that), rather, it's just a little incentive for you to review. IF there are ten reviews, I'll post the next chapter at that time, other wise I'll just update regularly (maybe once a week). So basically, if you want the chapter sooner, than review! (And they have to be different people, duh), but if you really don't care and figure you can wait a week, it's totally up to you.

This is basically just to make me feel like less of a loser, b/c I seriously want to post these as fast as you want to read them.

Thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed: Kyoko Kasshu Minamino, **angie232**, JayTrusedale, **Silverbloodrain**, fanficgeek, **Evelyn Valerious**, MP, **saoirse**

**NEXT UPDATE: MAY 19, 2005 (my time, which is Tokyo time) or 10 REVIEWS  
**


	5. V: You'd be Surprised

Part V: You'd Be Surprised

Angela sat mutely at her desk shuffling papers. Marsden had insisted, that, although she appeared to be fine, she take a desk job for a couple of weeks—presumably he was worried that her sister's death would distract her with deadly consequences. Angela had rolled her eyes at this insistence, but agreed to do some paper-pushing for awhile, if only to shut him up. Judy Barnes, the secretary dropped by her desk, "There's someone here to see you, Angie."

Angela looked up, "Oh? Umm, who is it?"

Judy giggled—slightly unbecoming for a woman in her mid-thirties, Angela decided—and replied, "A man. He says his name is Constantine."

Angela smiled, "Oh, well, send him over, then…I need to finish organizing some case files, but I'm almost done."

Judy grinned conspiratorially at Angela, who smiled weakly back, and rushed away. A few seconds later, John's presence was marked by the swish of a coat and a looming presence blocking her light. Angela didn't look up, "I'm almost done, give me about five minutes."

"Dinner." John asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question to Angela. She glanced up and smiled.

"Are you asking or telling me?"

"…Dinner?" He amended, giving her a small smile of his own.

Angela nodded, "Sure, do I need to change?"

John shook his head, "No, it has to be quick, anyway. I have some…business to deal with." The end of his sentence took a bitter twist and Angela cocked her head curiously.

"Business? That sounds ominous."

John gave her a sardonic smile, "Picked up my sister today. Some…stuff going on. Need to talk to Midnite, the usual."

Angela raised one eyebrow, "Sister? I didn't know you had a sister."

"Neither did I." John paused, "Well, I did. But yeah…complications." He didn't appear to want to discuss the topic much further, so Angela didn't press. Filing the last of the cases into her cabinet, she snapped her laptop shut and slid it into her brief case, "Well, Mr. Constantine, I'm ready if you are." He gave her an amused look, and held his arm out mockingly. She grinned at him, and took it.

* * *

Jade pulled on a black racer-back tank top and a pair of faded jeans before walking out of the bathroom. Her long brown hair was pulled into a high messy bun, and her face was devoid of any make up. She stepped over to where Chas sat, reading some book, at the kitchen table, "Where's John?" 

Chas glanced up, "With…his girlfriend. Detective Angela Dodson."

Jade nodded, "When will he be back?"

"He wants to stop by Midnite's tonight, so probably twelve or one."

"Midnite's?"

"It's a bar," Chas said smugly, "A _legendary_ bar."

Jade looked disappointingly unimpressed at this declaration, "Huh. Food, is there food?" She moved to the refrigerator.

"I doubt it. God knows what John keeps in there, but there's money for pizza."

Jade nodded again, and turned, disappearing back into the adjacent room. When she walked back out, she was zipping up a black cotton sweater. She strode toward the Chas, grabbing the twenty from where it was lying, weighted down with a book, and disappeared out the door. Chas cocked his head, as he watched the door where she had left curiously. Isis meowed.

"Jade? _Jade!_ You can't just leave! What am I going to tell John!" There was no answer. Chas swore under his breath, glared at the cat, grabbed his hat, and rushed after her, slamming the door behind him.

Jade pulled her black sweater tight around her as a gust of uncommonly cold wind whipped past her. She tucked the twenty dollars into the back pocket of her jeans and stopped for the light, closing her eyes and listening to Chas stumble after her. He appeared a couple of seconds later, his breathing a little heavier. Jade regarded him coolly from under dark lashes, "You decided to come."

Chas blinked at her, "You can't just leave…what was I going to tell John!"

Jade shrugged, "Who cares."

"Who cares?" Chas followed her as she crossed the street, "Who _cares_?"

"Yeah. Who. Cares."

Chas thought for a second, who _did_ care? He was silent.

Jade gave a bitter laugh, "Exactly." She turned, and Chas followed her into a café. The hostess greeted them and asked how many were in their party. Chas held up two fingers and glanced at Jade, "Non-smoking." Jade rolled her eyes, but followed as the hostess led them to a table. Chas pulled out the chair for her and she gave him a blank look before sitting in it, still slightly disoriented as he moved around the table to sit in his seat. The waitress handed them each a menu and assured them she would be back in just a couple of minutes. Chas stared at his menu, hard, trying to think of something to say. Jade held hers in front of her face and observed the café she'd chosen—it was quaint, with a patio and candles, and a lot of couples.

The two teenagers sat in silence until the waitress came back, took their orders and menus, and they no longer had anything to hide behind, "John cares, you know."

Jade's gaze flickered up to his, her brown eyes as surprised as he'd ever seen them—which, granted, hadn't been ever, as he'd only met the girl a couple of hours ago—and she took a sip of her water (obviously, she wasn't that surprised, anyhow) "Excuse me?"

"I said," Chas continued, "John cares. It doesn't seem like it, but he does. I mean, I didn't even realize it until after I died."

"…_What_?" Jade's voice rose in pitch this time, and something dark glimmered in her eyes—something that looked a lot like fear, Chas noted.

"I mean," Chas lifted his water glass to his lips and thought quickly, "I practically died. And I didn't realize John cared, at all, until then."

"Oh," Jade visibly relaxed.

"Haha, sorry about that, Freudian slip…" the two of them shared a tentative laugh, as the waitress set a sandwich in front of Jade and a hamburger in front of Chas, "Anyway, I just…wanted you to know. That people do care, John does. He took you home, after all."

Jade bit into her sandwich and regarded him guardedly, "No, he doesn't care any more than I do. He just met me, a sister he barely knew he had, he doesn't care about my existence any more than I care about his. I need a place to stay, for about a month. Until I can get a job, get some money, take care of myself. I was on my way to moving out, anyway, before my parents died…it wasn't like they wanted me there, after all…" Jade narrowed her eyes at Chas, who was looking at her with a sincere expression, his hazel eyes wide with concern. She hadn't meant to tell him that much…there was just something very open about this kid. She coughed to cover her momentary lapse of wits, and muttered, "I won't stay any longer than necessary. Then I'll be gone and you and John will have your lives," Chas snorted at this, "back." Jade continued to eat her sandwich.

Chas was still staring at her with a genuine expression, and suddenly filled with curiosity as to why her parents didn't want her around. He mused to himself, _John left because his parents thought he was crazy. Could Jade be 'crazy' as well? If that's the case, getting her into Midnite's won't be as hard as we thought. _Chas leaned back in his chair and nonchalantly stretched his steel-grey wings as wide as he could in the confines of the café. Jade continued to eat her sandwich.

"Jade?" Chas asked, wondering if it could perhaps be because she wasn't looking at him.

"Yeah?" Jade looked up, nonplussed. He flexed his wings a couple of times for good measure, but her eyes stayed flat—if she saw anything, she was certainly good at not showing it, "Um…can you pass the ketchup?"

Jade handed him the bottle sitting next to her…across the two-foot in diameter café table, "…Sure."

* * *

"Won't you come in?" Angela smiled coyly at John under long lashes. 

He gave her a lazy grin, as he toyed with the back of her blouse, "I…can't. I have to see Midnite, and then go back to check on Jade and Chas," he sighed.

Angela nodded, understanding, "Alright," she whispered, leaning up and wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him down until her lips were touching his, "I'll be alright in my cold, lonely apartment…"

John groaned, "Angela…you're not making this any easier," he whispered, pressing soft kisses against her neck, "You're really, really not."

She smiled, "I know…I suppose I'm not. But you should get going," Angela pulled away, serious, "And I do want to know what was going on in my bedroom last night."

John grew serious, as well, "Just the regular, Angie, demons. Creatures from the underworld," he said it with a flippant air, but she could tell he was trying not to worry her.

"But…John, they can't cross into our plane…?" She wasn't fooled by his casual manner for an instant.

He paused, "That's a slight fact we shouldn't be overlooking, yeah. Here," John handed her a couple of things—a small matchbox, and an ancient-looking gold contraption—"Take these, if anything happens tonight, these will hold them off until I can come."

Angela turned the contraption over in her hand—_dragon's breath_—she realized, and glanced up at him, "But what if I can't make it to the phone?"

John sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "If you're in any danger, I'll know," he assured her, "I'll know."

He sounded confident in this, so she didn't question him. Instead, she carefully placed the matchbox and dragon's breath into her bag, and looked up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, "I guess you'd better get going, then."

"I guess," John looked far from ready to move from his current position.

Angela gave him a lazy smile and unlocked her door. She pushed it slightly ajar, and turned back to him, unbuttoning her blouse, "I'll see you tomorrow, John." Her fingers snagged as her bra caught on one of the buttons. She glanced down.

John watched her, silently, until she glanced down and he caught a glimpse of her lacy black bra, "Angela…what are you doing?" His voice was husky.

She looked up at him, innocently, "Undressing." She paused, "For bed. Aren't you leaving?"

John watched as she finished unbuttoning her blouse and shrugged it off, exposing the soft curves of her body. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, quickly—or would have, but he only made it to three. Angela suddenly found herself being swept up in his arms and carried across the threshold of her door, "Romantic, John, I never would have thought you the type," she giggled softly.

John kicked the door shut and set her gently down, dragging her against him as soon as her feet hit the floor, shrugging as he kissed her, hard, "There are laws against public indecency, and I was just ensuring your protection."

Angela smiled against his lips, "Right. Are you going, then?"

John let out a frustrated growl, "Eleven. I have to leave for Midnite's at eleven."

Angela glanced at the clock—nine twenty-three—and placed her bag on the shelf next to the drawer, "Alright, Mr. Constantine, I certainly hope you don't have anything against 'indecency', as you call it," She began divesting herself of the rest of her clothing, and John ran his large hands over her body.

"Certainly not, Detective."

* * *

Aww, JohnAngela fluff...sweet. 

Thanks to everyone who reviewed: **yellodello**, Too-lazy-to-sign-in, **Kyoko Kasshu Minamono**, Silverbloodrain, **Evelyn Valerious**, SophieD., **Detroit, **saoirse, **MP **(AngelaJohn fluffiness! squee)fanficgeek (sorry, not much angst in this chapter), **Osage**

You guys rock, and you totally deserved this chapterso, same deal, next update next week, unless there are more than ten reviews. Looks like I might have to start writing faster, though...

**NEXT UPDATE: MAY 20, 2005 or at 10+ REVIEWS **


	6. VI: Nightmares

Part VI: Nightmares

John was still smirking subtly to himself as he stepped down the plush red stairs that marked the entrance to Papa Midnite's bar and club. The bouncer held up a card rigidly, and John quickly answered "Dog in a lake," striding past the bouncer and into the club. Entrancing music pounded through the speakers as John walked confidently past angels and demons, both of whom regarded him with cool indifference. John reached the lounge, and stared hard at the quilted pattern of the door—seamlessly replaced since he had shot-gunned it, John noted—until it swung forward, allowing him to step easily into the spacious interior. John breathed in, inhaling the heavily perfumed air. He coughed slightly, and a voice regarded him casually, "I thought you stopped smoking, John."

John coughed again, "I did. Just all this incense is choking me," he waved his hand in front of his face to ward off the fumes, and Midnite gave a deep chuckle.

"Why are you here, John? Mammon is safely in Hell, now, I assure you. I would have thought you'd be in Italy or perhaps France by now, along the Riviera with that girl of yours…" Midnite trailed off thoughtfully.

"Chas is back."

"Oh, the kid?" Midnite chuckled again, "I liked him. How is he doing?"

"He's dead." John muttered flatly, "Well, he's an angel."

"Yes, I would assume so. Tell him to drop by once in awhile, we might have some entertainment to his liking."

John raised one eyebrow slightly, "He's on a mission."

Midnite observed John with an identical expression, "A mission? What for?"

John shrugged, "God, and he doesn't know what for," he paused, and Midnite nodded pensively, "I picked up my sister today." Midnite kept nodding, so John continued, "There's something…about her. Something I can't place. It's…strange."

"Well, John, if she is related to you, there is bound to be many things about her you cannot place," Midnite gave him a bemused smile and picked up a rich-looking cigar. John stared coolly at him, and reached into his pocket for a piece of gum.

"This is different. She doesn't have the…gift," John spit out 'gift' bitterly, "And my uncle—a half-breed demon—wants her in his custody."

"Your uncle is a demon?"

"No…well, I'm fairly sure it wasn't him. But, some demon wants her…and I don't know why. But I think it might have something to do with Chas's reappearance…also, Angela's been having visitors at night."

Midnite was silent, so John kept going, "Demons. Again. And not Mammon this time."

Midnite sighed deeply, "John, that is…not impossible, but implausible. Mammon is in Hell. Satan is in Hell. Demons—yes, even the demons—are in Hell. Are you sure this isn't just your imagination working because of the frustration of finding that, for once in your life, nothing is going wrong?"

John shook his head, frustrated, "It's something else. Something is out there, and it's _not_ my imagination. I want Jade to speak to you. Can we drop by tomorrow? She doesn't have the gift," John reminded him.

Midnite sighed again, "Of course, I will arrange something." John nodded curtly and turned to leave, "Oh, and John? Do not make trouble for yourself."

John gazed impassively at him for a second before turning and walking out the door. Midnite sighed, and tapped his cigar briefly on the edge of an ashtray, before saying a quick prayer for his friend's health and wits.

* * *

Jade was laughing, and Chas with her. John could hear them all the way across the street. _At least some of us are having fun, _he thought to himself, _too many demons—figurative and literal—for you to have fun, though, __Constantine_

Jade and Chas both looked up as the door slammed open and John Constantine stood there, his tall figured dark and imposing against the faded hall light, his gaze heavy and unwavering.

"_Drama queen._" Chas muttered under his breath, and Jade giggled. John raised one eyebrow at them, and walked past where they were sitting at the table to the refrigerator. He grabbed a bottle of vodka off the top of it, and opened a cupboard, selecting a glass and pouring it half-full.

"Good evening to you, too, John," Chas grinned at John, who had turned slightly at the sound of his voice. John turned back, downing his drink, and setting the glass on the counter, ignoring them both. Chas shrugged and turned back to Jade, with whom he was playing a game of chess. Jade rolled her eyes at John's lack of manners, and took Chas's rook, "Hey! That was my rook!"

"Yes, yes it was."

"Hey! That was my knight!"

"Chas, do you even know how to play this game?"

"I read a book, once."

John snorted, but couldn't keep from smiling at the easy banter between Chas and Jade. It was far more relaxed than the earlier tension, he mused, if still not an entirely open atmosphere, "Bed." John called, walking into the bathroom.

"Hey, that was my pawn!"

* * *

Jade lay awake, staring at the dark crevices of the ceiling, taking note of all the places her body was aching. She could see the ancient clock on the wall ticking away the seconds from where she was camped on the couch, a warm blanket tossed over her. Chas was snoring softly on the floor between the couch and John's bed, and John was asleep, as far as she could tell; though every so often he would thrash for a few seconds and mutter something in Latin. It was two fifty-six am, and she could feel her body's tiredness beginning to take over. Her eyes drifted shut, until a muscle spasm jolted her awake. _I can fall asleep…the nightmares won't come…_she repeated the litany over and over in her head, but couldn't seem to bring herself to believe the words. 

Jade swung her legs over the side of the couch, creeping softly across the hardwood floor to the kitchenette area. She pulled a glass out of the cupboard and ran the tap until the water was icy. She pushed her glass under the stream, and sipped slowly. A shadow moved across one of the windows, and she shuddered involuntarily. Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she continued to drink the water. Gulping it down, she put her glass under the still running tap and filled it again, turning around until she was leaning against the sink. She looked up, and a bolt of fear jolted through her as she noticed someone standing before her, silhouetted by the moonlight filtering through one of the still-open blinds. John quirked an eyebrow at her, and reached up and over her head to the cupboard, taking out a glass of his own. Jade felt the fear release slowly from her, leaving only a tense caution behind, and John filled his glass, flicking the tap off.

He drank, slowly, but steadily, and when he finished he set the glass beside her on the counter, "You should get some sleep." His voice was rough from sleep, and Jade nodded mutely. He gave her a faint nod, and left to go back to bed. Jade drank the rest of her water, and followed, settling back on the couch.

She felt herself drifting off, and this time she didn't try to stop it.

* * *

Angela woke suddenly, gasping for breath, and gripping the Celtic amulet about her neck. An acidic sting hit her nostrils, and she groped blindly about the coffee table until her hand found what it was looking for—a small, intricately designed metal contraption—_Sulfur,_ she thought.

* * *

Jade woke suddenly, gasping for breath. It was hot, the air heavy with thick condensation. Breathing in the viscous air, she felt herself go dizzy with a wave of nausea. In the distance, she could hear some sort of inhuman screaming, a sound that made her break into a cold sweat, despite the syrupy humidity. She coughed once, covering her face, and decided to get another drink of water. Her eyes still half-shut, she swung her legs onto the wooden floor and pressed her weight on it in an effort to get up. She screamed as one foot fell through the rotting wood, and her eyes snapped open. The building was no longer intact, the roof giving way to open rust-colored sky, what was left of the shutters banging effortlessly in a whipping wind. The floor beneath her rotting, and Chas and John nowhere to be seen. Jade closed her eyes again, _the nightmares came_.

* * *

Angela held the dragon's breath in front of her like a gun. A shadow slithered past her doorway, and she turned, her breathing heavy and heart racing. Her gaze stayed trained on where the shadow had slid past, until, her pulse started to decrease. She stayed up for over an hour, cautiously checking the doors and windows, until she was sure that whatever had been there was not coming back that night. She fell slowly back into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The nightmares usually came about once a week. They used to come every night, but she'd managed to suppress them into tentative regression. They always took place in this same Hellish land, and every time she would sit quietly in her bed and wait for it to go away. Come morning, they would be gone. And that was what she was doing now. 

Jade pulled the ragged remains of the blanket around her shoulders and perched precariously on the couch, her eyes closed, chanting silently to herself in Latin. Very rarely, she had different dreams, dreams that weren't nightmares. In those dreams, she'd been in a place between worlds, full of bright, white light. A voice would speak to her, and it would speak in Latin—and she understood it. And, though she couldn't understand what she was saying now, the words comforted her in a way no other litanies could.

_Click. Clickclick. Clickity-click-click._

Jade's eyes snapped open. She glanced around warily, almost positive she had been imagining—if that was possible, in a dreamland—the clicking noise. She'd never come face to face with any of the creatures in this land, though she could always hear the tormented wails in the distance, and she was fairly confident that she never wanted to meet anything that inhabited her dream world. Cautiously, she closed her eyes again.

_Click. Clickclick._

_In Deo speramus. In trinitus speramus. __Christe, eleison. Kyrie, eleison. Agimus tibi gratias, omnipotens Deus, pro universis beneficiis tuis: Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum. _She muttered the Latin forcefully, letting the words flow silently from her tongue.

_Clickity-click-click. Jade. Clickclick. Jade __Constantine_

Her eyes opened again, and she looked around. She was fairly positive she hadn't imagined this.

_Jade Sarea Constantine._

She looked behind her; nothing. She turned back, and came face-to-face with a …something. A skeletal corpse of a creature, the rotting flesh that made it up stretched thin over its protruding bones, with a scooped-out hollow of a head and jagged, almost human features. With no eyes, its cartilage nose sniffed furiously, and it bared its teeth in recognition of the meat that lay before it. Long-fingered bony hands groped, and Jade nearly gagged from the overall smell of festering, rotting carcass. It cocked its head in an eerily human gesture, and Jade moved backward into the couch, slowly. She glanced side to side, not moving her head, judging if she'd be able to run, were it to chase her. She saw no paths of freedom on either side, so she slowly turned her head to look behind her. About halfway through the motion, she saw the thing jerk its head back into place out of the corner of her eye. It was a split second before it lunged, shrieking in inhuman insanity.

Jade screamed the first thing that fired from her brain to her vocal chords, "_JOHN!"_

_

* * *

_

John awoke in an instant, his hand already halfway to the holy shotgun on his nightstand, until he realized it was Jade screaming. She was wrestling with the blanket, tumbling fitfully and sobbing his name, along with muttered Latin phrases. He got out of bed and hurried—as much as John Constantine ever hurried—to the couch, tripping over Chas as he went. John knelt by the couch and pulled the blanket back, just as Jade shot up and almost collided with him leaning over her. Her eyes were wild, and she was gasping for breath, one hand gripping the pendant around her neck. Her gaze met his fearfully, and she threw herself into his confused arms and sobbed into his chest, still gasping for breath. John, thrown aback by this uncharacteristic behavior, patted her awkwardly on the back, noting the curious heat that was pouring forth from her slender body.

As if she'd just realized where she was and what she was doing, Jade hurtled herself away from him, and retreated to the far end of the couch, clutching the blanket and continuing to sob hysterically, "I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm sorry, it was a nightmare. I have them all the time. It was just a nightmare. I'm sorry." Her body shook uncontrollably.

"What's going on?" A sleepy-eyed Chas stumbled up behind them, "Jade, are you okay?"

"It was just a nightmare," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone, "It wasn't real, it was just a nightmare."

Chas knelt beside her on the couch and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"It was just a nightmare." Jade nodded, as if to emphasize her point, "I'm okay. It wasn't real."

John reached over and turned on a lamp, continuing to stare at her. Chas brought his hand away from her shoulder, and looked at it. It was covered in rust-colored dust.

"Jade," John began, "are you sure…it was just a nightmare."

She looked at him, and he saw a jolt of fear traverse through her body, "Yes," she whispered firmly, "It was just a nightmare."

"What…" John paused, trying to be tactful, "What did you see?"

Jade shivered involuntarily and pulled the blanket around her tighter. Tears still streamed down her cheeks, but she whispered softly, "I have them all the time…at least…at least once a week. It's totally normal…it's just…a world…I'm in a world…like this one, only…only everything is decaying…dead. Everything is dead. There's screaming…wailing…in the distance…but it's just a wasteland. Nothing's there, at least…" she shuddered again, and Chas moved to sit beside her on the couch, "I didn't think anything was there." Jade shook her head furiously, "But it doesn't matter, it was just a nightmare." She was still gripping the pendant, John noted.

"Maybe…maybe not." John said, getting up abruptly and coming back with a glass of water, and a couple of pieces of chocolate, "You should eat something," He handed them to her, and she took a sip of the water.

Chas stood up, nodding at John, "Jade…" he began, "Do…do you see anything?" He flexed his wings. Jade shook her head.

John cocked his head and gazed at her steadily, "More specifically, do you see Chas's wings?"

Jade looked at them both like they were crazy. She sipped her water and looked up at Chas. John saw an almost imperceptible change as her eyes hardened slightly when Chas flexed his wings again, "No." She whispered, "I don't. See. Anything."

Chas sighed and threw up his hands in an, 'I give up' motion, and Jade set her glass on the table next to her. She met John's steady, scrutinizing gaze, "It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real. I don't see anything." She wrapped the blanket around her body, and huddled on the far side of the couch, closing her eyes, "I don't see…anything," she whispered to herself, "I don't see anything."

John stayed next to the couch, watching her as she drifted to sleep, still huddled in a ball. He could hear Chas snoring lightly from the other side of the room. About forty minutes after both his charges had gone to sleep, he reached over and clicked off the lamp beside the couch, "How," he muttered to himself, "Did you do it without water?"

* * *

WOW, you guys are amazing! I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the reviews! This chapter was pretty long, I'm sure you're all upset about that ;). 

Thanks to: Mousewolf, **angie232, **Crystalline Sacchrine (thanks for leaving a name!), **Detroit, **MrSmithConstantine101, **Vampirehelsing, **Jay-Trusedale, **Evelyn Valerious, **MP, **Kyoko Kasshu Minamino**

Right, well, same deal as long as I still have chapters to post :). Though, it might be a little slow this weekend, because it's Prom for my school, and I won't be home, but I will upload the chapters to so if I can ever access a computer...

**NEXT UPDATE: MAY 21, 2005 or at 10+ Reviews for this chapter**

Much love everyone**,  
**Jake (I am female, if you were wondering.)**  
**


	7. VII: Breakfast in LA

Part VII: Breakfast in LA

Brilliant rays of sunlight were filtering through the shutters when Jade awoke for the second time. She checked the clock: eleven, and stretched out the kinks in her back and body that had accumulated from sleeping in such an awkward curled-up position. Yawning, she shivered involuntarily at the memory of her dream, and let her gaze wander over to where John and Chas were both still fast asleep. John was sprawled across the bed, one arm flung above his head and the other clutching a shiny golden gun-looking object. Chas was snoring openly; his blankets were kicked everywhere and his head was only half on his pillow. Jade watched as John turned over and mumbled something like, "Constantine, asshole," in his sleep, and Jade couldn't help but give a small smile at how unthreatening and innocent both seemed in their sleep…Chas more than John, of course, but that was the natural order of things, after all.

Jade crept quietly to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She pulled her hair from where it was still tied in a messy bun down until it cascaded chaotically across her shoulders. Grabbing her brush from the simple vanity kit she'd laid beside the sink earlier, she proceeded to detangle her mass of thick, dark hair in under fifteen minutes. She brushed her teeth and then washed her face quickly, drying it on one of the towels she'd hung up earlier—John's place was most definitely a well-lived in bachelor pad—and studied herself in the mirror. Deep brown eyes stared back at her from under long, dark lashes. Her skin was olive-colored, smooth, and clear, but the dark patches under her eyes made her look both tired and past her seventeen years. She stared at herself as she brought her right hand up to the neckline of her tank top, where a small protrusion gave away the existence of the pendant she never took off. She slowly drew the pendant out, letting it fall against the black of her shirt as she fingered it thoughtfully. Despite the fact that they were only nightmares, she couldn't help but believe that it was this pendant that had always been her source, her connection to her world that helped to draw her out…out of the dream world. Out of the nightmarish hell. It was silver, and a series of intertwining curves that made up what the Celts knew as the symbol for the holy Trinity. A small circle of purple shot through the loops, interconnecting with them to make up the rest of the pendant. It hung from her neck on a short silver chain. She held it to her chest and whispered softly to herself, "_Deo gratias. Annuit coeptis—_"

She was cut off as someone knocked on the door. Quickly tucking the pendant below her shirt, she grabbed her vanity kit and opened the door, only to be faced with a bleary-eyed Chas Kramer. He nodded at her sleepily, and stumbled past her into the bathroom, grunting what she figured was something along the lines of 'good morning'. She nodded in response.

John was still asleep, and since he didn't look like the kind of person who slept much, at all, Jade was careful to be quiet. She opened the refrigerator in search of a decent breakfast food, and muttered to herself as she took the contents out, one-by-one, and placed them on the counter, "Butter. Milk. He drinks milk?" She shot a dubious glance toward her still-dozing brother and weighed the milk container in one hand. Still nearly full, no wonder. She opened a cupboard, and then another, until she found a small saucer. "Isis," she called softly, pouring the milk into the saucer, "C'mon, baby." The black cat leapt deftly onto the counter and gave her a curious cat-stare before lapping at the milk.

"Olives." Jade set the jar on the counter, and looked back in the refrigerator, "Hershey's chocolate bars."

That was it for the fridge. She opened the freezer, "Three TV dinners. Ice." She glanced at John again—still asleep—_how does this guy live? _She thought to herself. No sign of anything remotely breakfast-y to be found, "Guess I'll have to go shopping," she muttered. Jade remembered seeing an open-air market on her way to the café the night before, so she walked over to the table by the door, where John had a change-plate, and scooped out several dollars and a handful of quarters and dimes. She glanced outside and decided that, while it didn't look frighteningly chilly outside, she was only wearing a midriff-bearing tank top and red-silk Capri pajama pants—and she was in a neighborhood she wasn't quite familiar with yet. She glanced around and saw an old grey hoodie lying half over the armrest of a chair. She grabbed it and pulled it on. It came to about mid-thigh, and she figured it had to be Chas's. Didn't seem like the type of thing John would wear, but it wasn't like she was an expert on John, or his personal choice in clothing. But it smelled like what she thought Chas might smell like, not John—pine air-freshener mixed with the faint scent of chocolate-chips, not expensive cologne and raw danger. She checked to see that John was still sleeping and pulled the hood up over her hair when a sharp whisper stopped her.

"Where are you going?" Chas's voice was sharp with an edge of sleepiness still attached to it, "That's my sweatshirt."

"Yeah," Jade agreed—_I knew it!_ She thought to herself—"I, ah, was just going to get some breakfast."

Chas looked confused, "Like, food?"

Jade nodded slowly, "Yes…like food."

"Oh." A pause, "Why are you wearing my sweatshirt?"

Jade shrugged, "I'm hardly wearing anything underneath, figured the neighborhood probably wasn't very safe."

Chas snorted, "No kidding," he glanced back at where John had turned over and let out a string of Latin, but was still sleeping, "You know what, I'll come with you."

Jade shrugged again, "Alright. I saw a market down the street, so…"

Chas nodded, "Yeah, let me just leave a note."

He scribbled something quickly on a pad of paper by the change-plate—from what Jade could read of it, all it informed John of was that she and Chas were 'still alive, don't worry', but Chas seemed to think that was enough for John to not wake up and think they'd been kidnapped or killed, so he tore off the piece of paper and threw it on the counter, and pushed the door open, waiting patiently for Jade to step through. She gave him a wary glance, but stepped through ahead of him, wondering confusedly why someone as paranoid as John seemed didn't have any bolts on his door. But Chas fell into step beside her and started talking about everything he wanted to eat, and she forgot about the bolts for laughing at Chas's excitement.

* * *

Jade and Chas walked down the cracked sidewalk in fairly comfortable silence, until the reached the market. _Big Jim's Supermarket_, the faded sign read across the door of the shambled building. Carts of fresh fruits and vegetables were piled up outside, and Chas took an immediate interest in all the real food, "I'm going to grab some stuff inside, alright," Jade confirmed with Chas before turning and walking through the dusty glass doors. Chas returned his attention to the apples; it had been a long time since he'd had an apple. 

A bell jangled as Jade pushed through the double doors, and a balding man reading a newspaper behind the counter of the small market barely glanced up. Jade browsed the shelves, grabbing a carton of eggs and a half-loaf of bread. She brought the items to the counter, and set them down, reaching into the pocket of the sweatshirt where she had put the money. She paused as she was taking out the money and picked up a box of Silk Cuts, dropping them on the counter.

"I'm gonna need to see your ID for those, miss," The man continued to read his paper. Jade gave an annoyed groan, and patted herself conspicuously.

"I just moved in, down the street, needed to grab some breakfast," she gestured to the eggs and bread sitting next to the cigarettes, "I'm still in my pj's, don't have any ID with me at the moment…"

The man glanced up slightly, taking in her face, and she tried her best to look annoyed and not scared of being caught, "Alright," he shrugged and rang up the items, "Six fifty-five."

"Thanks," she said, pulling out a five dollar bill and reaching in for more. The bell jangled as she pulled out a handful of quarters and began to count them into the money tray.

"This girl's seventeen." Jade looked up to see Chas dropping a pack of Chiclets on the counter while swooping her Silks back into the tray under the counter. The man narrowed his eyes at her, and Jade shrugged. Chas placed a bag of apples, a bunch of bananas, and a package of strawberries on the counter next to the bread, eggs, and gum. He shot her a look, and Jade glared.

"Fifteen ninety-six," the man amended, and Chas pulled out some money of his own. The man bagged their purchases, and Chas scooped them both up. Jade gazed longingly at her cigarettes as Chas pushed her out the door, waving good-bye to the clerk.

"Gum?"

"Fuck you."

"Trust me, it's better to quit while you're ahead."

Jade glowered, but reluctantly took a piece of gum from him. She needed _something_ to get her through the day, and Chas had pretty much nixed her chances of ever buying cigarettes from _that_ store, ever again. Well, she amended, until she turned eighteen…but that was six months away and she didn't plan on being around, anyway. She pulled off her sweatshirt, not caring how little she was wearing—the sun was high, and it was LA—and looked up at Chas, who was swinging the bags in one hand and staring over her head across the street, a curious look in his eyes. Jade turned to face what he was staring at and saw a group of boys, not much older than she, talking amongst themselves and staring right back at her and Chas. One boy, the presumable 'leader', slowly let his gaze drag up and down her body, and winked. She stuck up her middle finger, and he laughed to his friends. Though, he wasn't necessarily abhorrent, she noted, tall and semi-built, with tanned skin and messy black hair. He was taking a long drag from a cigarette, she noticed appreciatively, and leaning casually against the hottest bike she'd ever seen. But just because he was hot didn't mean he couldn't be an asshole, she decided, and focused ahead of her on the sidewalk.

Chas was still giving the boys a curious stare, though it was rapidly turning hostile. He wasn't sure if it was, perhaps the early afternoon heat, but he could almost swear that the boy who'd winked at Jade was shimmering slightly. The boy gave him a nod, and a devilish smile, and then turned back to his friends. Chas blinked, and there was nothing—no shimmering, nothing—so he turned back to Jade, who was staring at the ground in front of her. They walked the rest of the way home in silence.

* * *

John woke to the smell of something burning. He opened his eyes to assess what was on fire, and where it was coming from. Chas was standing over him, with a spatula—_where'd he get that?_ John wondered—in his right hand, shaking it at him. 

"When was the last time you got that toaster checked out, John?" Chas asked angrily, his spatula bouncing up and down, "it's not only ancient, but I think we blew out a fuse."

John sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, "Do I have a toaster?"

"…That's what I thought." Chas turned and left, and John sat on the side of the bed, bracing himself on the floor. He checked the clock—12:13 pm. It wasn't like him to sleep in like that, but Jade's middle-of-the-night terror probably had something to do with it, he mused. He walked around the bed, barely glancing at the fiasco happening in the kitchen as he stumbled into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, he stumbled out, a towel wrapped around his slender waist, and back into his bedroom-area, sliding a large wooden partition between that area and the rest of the apartment to give himself some semblance of privacy. A couple of minutes later, he walked out wearing black slacks, black socks, and a half-buttoned white shirt.

Jade and Chas were sitting at the table, Chas with his nose in a book as he chomped down on an apple, and Jade pushing scrambled eggs around a plate with her fork. At the sound of his footsteps, Jade glanced up, and Chas turned a page.

Jade gave him a slight smirk, "Hungry?"

John stared at her, "Uh…" he wasn't entirely sure what to say, but he certainly wasn't used to people invading his space and cooking edible, and dare he say, appetizing food, "Yeah. Sure." Jade pushed a plate of eggs toward him and he picked up a fork, poising it above the plate thoughtfully.

Jade made an eating motion with her right hand, and John glared. Then, placing the fork beside the plate, he quickly bowed his head and mumbled a few strings of Latin. Jade stared. Chas stopped reading and eating and stared. John looked up, to find both of them staring, "What?" he asked defensively, and started to eat.

"Did you just…pray?" Chas asked incredulously, "To…God?"

"What if I did," John muttered, "And who else would I pray to."

Chas nodded dumbly, and glanced at Jade, who was still staring. John looked distinctly uncomfortable and defensive, so they decided to drop the subject. _Who would've ever thought…_Chas mused silently, perhaps John really had learned _something_ with his double-death experience.

Chas returned to his book, and Jade finished the last bite of eggs, and picked up her plate to put it in the sink. Suddenly, the biting shrill of the phone sliced through the air. John was eating, and Chas was reading, so Jade dropped her plate on the counter and reached over to pick up the black receiver, "Hello?"

"_Is this the number of John Constantine?_"

"Yes, would you like to speak to him?"

"_Yes, it's very urgent, I—" _Jade held the phone slightly away from her ear as the speaker's voice turned into a gurgling sound, _"I—need him—722—Grayson Avenue…please…fast…rakshasasss—"_

Jade stared at the receiver as the line went abruptly dead, and John nodded to her, "Who was it?"

She gave him a confused look, "Someone said they needed you…722 Grayson Avenue…something about…rakshasas? John—" She had barely finished her sentence as she watched John run out the door while throwing on his coat, and Chas rushing after him, "John! Chas!" She called, and Chas turned to her quickly.

"Stay." He muttered, before following John out the door. She glared, "I'm not a do—" But her words were lost as he had already slammed the door behind him.

* * *

How intriguing, hmm? Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! Ya'll are awesome! There are really no words. It's because of you that I adore posting this (incredibly) fast! 

Reviewers rock: **Jay-Trusedale**, Silverbloodrain, **angie232, **saoirse, **jeaynie, **Evelyn Valeriious, **Crystalline Sacchrine, **Osage, **Kyoko Kasshu Minamino, **MrSmithConstantine101

**NEXT UPDATE: MAY 24, 2005 or 10+ Reviews for this chapter**

Much love,  
Jake


	8. VIII: To Hell and Back

Part VIII: To Hell and Back

Angela plunged her hands into the soapy water, scrubbing at the dirty dishes. She checked the clock, 12:34. It was Saturday, so she worked in shifts—and hers wasn't until 3pm this particular Saturday. _I am abnormally jumpy today, _she thought to herself as she nearly leapt off the floor when a plastic cup clattered to the ground. She turned to see Duck mewing softly at her, pawing for attention, and she took one soapy hand and rubbed his head. He shied away from the water and perched above her on the shelf, glaring reproachfully. She laughed tensely, but couldn't deny that every noise was freaking her out.

A sudden wave of nausea hit her, and she put one hand to her forehead. As soon as it had come, it was gone, but she couldn't help wondering if it was something other than a regular sickness. Another wave of nausea and heat, this time, went rushing through her, and there was a clatter from the bedroom area. Cautiously, she clutched the amulet around her neck—the one John had given her those four or so months ago—with one hand, and turned slowly, one hand still immersed in the soapy dishwater.

* * *

Jade blinked at the door John and Chas had just run out of. Shrugging, and reminding herself to ask later, she rubbed Isis's neck absently. Curiously, she picked up Chas's discarded book, and plopped herself down on the couch. Isis curled up next to her, and she opened it to the first page. _Witchcraft and the Occult_. _Interesting, _she thought distractedly, and flipped forward a couple of pages, _Useful Latin; Curses, spells, exorcisms_. Rolling her eyes, she started to read, petting Isis. She recognized some of the phrases, though she was unsure of how useful they would be were one trying to curse someone, perform a spell, or an exorcism. _Futue te et ipsum caballum…fuck you and the horse you rode in on? Unless they mean curse in the non-traditional way, I suppose…_She continued to read, as Isis mewed softly. 

Jade was halfway through learning to perform a spell against trespassers when Isis let out a yowl. Startled, she looked down at the cat, whose pupils had become slits in the masses of green. Jade looked around the room curiously, but there was nobody there, and was about to turn back to finishing the spell when she felt a wave of nausea and heat hit her. "Ugh," she mumbled, nearly doubling over from the sudden attack. She put one hand over her mouth and the other involuntarily reached toward her necklace, her long fingers wrapping around the pendant hanging from the thin silver chain.

* * *

Angela noted a slight shift in the planes as she turned. Time stopped. Black clouds of dust and smoke whipped past her. Inhuman screaming wailed in the distance. The shambles of her apartment lay around her. She was in Hell.

* * *

Jade felt a change in the atmosphere as she lifted her head—no, not a subtle shift, rather a whipping blast of dry, putrid air. The screaming, the tormented wailing from her dream permeated the rushing of the thrashing wind around her. She glanced around. Everything was the color of rust, and the air stank of flesh and nausea and fear and hopelessness. The barren remains of Los Angeles stared back at her, and she gulped. She was in her dream world. And she wasn't asleep.

* * *

"Rakshasa. What the _hell?_" John muttered to himself as Chas sped along the highway toward Grayson Avenue, "Those are only _myth_." 

Chas kept his eyes on the road, "John, is anything ever just a myth?" He queried reasonably, "I mean, with all you've done, really…

John glared at him, "Do you know what the rakshasa are?"

Chas nodded, "Shape-shifters. Demons. African folktale." He noticed John raising one eyebrow, "What? I did a lot of reading."

John gave a 'too true' shrug, and continued, "Midnite tried to tell me the story once, said I might need it. Don't remember what he said, I'll have to go check…something about the triad…do you know anything about a triad?" Chas shook his head, no, "Figures," John went back to muttering to himself as Chas turned off the highway and onto a road of neatly trimmed lawns and prettily-hedged bushes. They passed _736…734…732…730…_Chas mumbled the numbers as he drove, _724…722!_ He pulled up on the curb in front of a large new-age Victorian style house, brick and trimmed in slate blue, with rosebushes planted around it.

John didn't argue when Chas opened his door, and Chas started to get a giddy feeling of excitement, which was crossed with a slightly sick feeling as he remembered how his last escapade with exorcisms had ended. In the end, giddy won out, and Chas was practically leaping as he grabbed John's bag from the trunk and slung it over his shoulder. He rushed after John, who was already striding purposefully up the cobblestone path toward the large oak door.

As he reached it, John turned back to Chas momentarily, "One thing I should warn you about…the rakshasa are supposed to have a grotesque manner of…ridding themselves of their victims."

Chas looked confused, "What?"

* * *

Angela whipped around at the sound of telltale clicking. She didn't know how she had gotten here, although she grudgingly admitted that a part of her body _had_ been suspended in water. In the weeks following the incident with Mammon, she'd had horrible nightmares of returning to Hell, but every time she'd awoken and checked, ensuring herself that she had in fact _not_ been in Hell, and it had only been a dream. But she was very much awake now, unless something had happened so fast and knocked her unconscious that she was entirely unaware of it. This was possible, but not entirely likely. She gulped in the sulfuric air and started walking toward the city. 

Slowly. She knew the soldier demons were more likely to stay at bay if she showed no fear.

* * *

Jade shut her eyes tightly. She wasn't asleep, and she somehow was. There was no way this was real, though the nausea that kept rolling over her in waves certainly felt real. This time, there was nobody around to save her. John and Chas were out, she couldn't count on them to awaken her from this horrible nightmare. So she did the only thing she could think of. 

She screamed, as loud as she possibly could.

* * *

Angela was out of her apartment complex and close to where she thought John's place might be, considering Hell was a mirror of Earth. She was wracking her brain on ways to get out, but coming up short. She also had to continuously remind herself to walk slowly and steadily, and not glance back fearfully at the demons skittering around overturned cars and through the remains of buildings. 

A scream, in the distance. Her heart clenched—and she softly told herself that Hell was full of screaming. But this was somehow different…it was human. That was it.

Angela started running.

* * *

The acidic smell of blood hung heavily in the air. John stepped over the threshold and Chas walked carefully in behind him. John held up a hand for Chas to stop, as he took in the scene warily. 

A curiously pristine, upper to middle-class house of classic design, the only sign of a struggle being a smashed vase, the broken pieces scattered on the floor and a cross a table where a white princess phone lay askew, dangling off the table by its cord. John moved his head slowly, from side to side, taking in ever detail, and Chas held his hand over his nose—the smell of blood was slowly giving way to decay.

Watery red liquid splattered on the hardwood floor next to Chas, forming a beaded puddle that contrasted brightly against the varnished planks. John turned his slow gaze upward.

John answered Chas's earlier question now, "Crucifixion."

* * *

Angela was fast approaching the site of the scream, but the soldier demons were now chasing, and gaining. She looked up, and saw a girl, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, standing in the window of where John's apartment would be, were this Earth. The girl had long brown hair and her mouth was open. She was the source of the scream. 

Angela looked up at her and their eyes met. The girl stopped screaming, briefly, but Angela could see tears running down her cheeks. The girl reached up and grabbed something around her neck, as silent tears continued to stream. Angela also reached up to her neck, where the amulet John had given her was hanging, _please,_ she thought_, protect me now_. As her hand clasped around the cool metal, she felt a sudden tug and full connection to Jade—was the name of the girl, she realized, though she couldn't remember where she'd heard the name 'Jade' before. And in that instant, the planes shifted again, and she found herself collapsed on the kitchen floor.

* * *

A man, his eyes rolled in the back of his head and his face contorted with anguishing pain, was on the ceiling. He was dead, and Chas noted his ankles had been drawn together with a length of rope, and there were rusty nails spouting from his hands, his wrists, and his ankles. His torso, unsecured, loomed precariously above them, and John stepped quickly back upon noticing that the man was a mere six inches above his head. Next to the man, drawn on the pristine ceiling, was a symbol in blood. The Trinity symbol, without the circle, and a line drawn under the top point—to indicate the symbol was to be pointing down. John grabbed a pad of paper and pen from a small table beside the door and scribbled the symbol quickly, then looked at Chas, who looked about to be sick. 

"Not in here," John hissed, and he pushed Chas out of the house. Chas gave him a slightly questioning look, and John sighed, "Whatever did this isn't here. The police will come. We need to go."

Chas nodded and slipped into the car, focusing on the road so he wouldn't have to think about the body.

* * *

Thanks so much for the reviews guys! Keep'em coming! I hope you all are having as much fun reading this as I am writing it! 

Special thanks to: **frantastic**, jeayniee, **Crystalline Sacchrine**, Silverbloodrain, **Evelyn Valerious**, Jay-Trusedale, **YukeBaby**, MrSmithConstantine101, **Beth**, Osage

**NEXT UPDATE: May 26, 2005 or at 10+ Reviews for this chapter!**

Much love!  
-Jake


	9. IX: Serial Killers

Part IX: Serial Killers

Jade felt herself being pulled out of the nightmare-world, and into reality. She collapsed, gasping for air, on the floor beside the couch, where Isis was still perched and the book lay forgotten. She tentatively wiped her cheek and drew her hand away. Tears and mascara mixed, and she realized she was crying. A small thump sounded as Isis jumped to the floor next to her. Jade looked at the cat in fear, and struggled to her feet. Looking around, there was nothing unusual about the apartment, as far as she could tell. Still, she couldn't stay in this place, not after what had just happened.

"Isis," she whispered to the cat, "Stay here for a little bit, okay? I'm going to go take a walk." The cat gazed up at her solemnly, and swished its black tail back and forth. Jade went into the other room where her suitcase was, and pulled on a pair of low-cut jeans and a black, midriff-baring t-shirt. She walked out the door, and then backtracked. She grabbed the pencil beside the change-plate and scribbled one word on the pad of paper beside that.

'Out.'

* * *

Angela glanced at the clock; no time had passed. She truly _had _been in Hell. 

"That's not even possible," she muttered to herself, "It's not possible." _And_ she wondered silently, _who is Jade?_ In that brief instant of intense connectivity she'd experienced with the distraught girl, she'd been sent a psychic whirl of emotions that she didn't even want to think about it. Foremost, there had been fear, but that was to be expected. Underlying, however, the strongest emotion she'd felt was a mix of hurt, bitterness, and pain. She felt these emotions so deep and ingrained, that, Angela was sure, had the girl not been in Hell and fearing for her immortal soul, they would have taken easy precedence. And what Angela wanted to know was, what on Earth could make a girl so young so bitter? The bitterness was not only laced with hurt, but it had an even courser feeling than John's abject cynicism. Angela had thought she'd seen the most deadened hope one could possibly see, in John Constantine. But, no, apparently not.

Her phone rang, and she flipped open the cell, "Dodson."

"Angela, can you come into the precinct a little early today? We've just gotten a call about a curious murder…it looks like the beginnings of a serial killer."

"Sure," she replied, already picking up her things, "I'll be there soon."

She took another deep breath of Earthly air, and left her apartment, being careful to bolt the door behind her.

* * *

About forty minutes later, Jade was ready to go back to the apartment. 

She strolled along the broken sidewalks, taking careful note of all her surroundings. Every store, every house, every mailbox, she filed them away in the recesses of her brain, _just in case,_ she thought to herself. But even the bright sunwash of the city and the busy road beside her couldn't take her mind off of what had happened earlier. For every building she stared too long at, she began to see it as the hellish, deprecated structure it would have been in the world she had just left. As this began to happen, she quickly moved her gaze to the next building, but to no avail. Each building she could see in its state of decay, so avidly in her mind that she was beginning to question whether it _was_ just in her mind or not. A shadow crossed her vision, but she didn't bother to glance up.

"Aren't you a sweet thing?"

She still didn't glance up, "Go to hell," she muttered darkly at the speaker, moving to push past him.

"What would you say if I told you, 'been there, done that, got a t-shirt'?" The boy in front of her mocked, blocking her escape. "No, really, though, I'm sorry, I just wanted to talk to you."

This time she did look up, surprised. It was the boy from earlier, the one with the messy black hair. He had bright blue eyes that looked…well, surprisingly sincere, "Well…Okay," she faltered as he gave her a charming smile, his eyes twinkling.

"I saw you this morning; you must be new to the neighborhood." His voice was surprisingly light and his tone surprisingly pleasant and Jade felt herself relax slightly, "What's your name?"

"Jade," she replied.

"Jade," he rolled her name around in his mouth, "Pretty. I'm Jack. Jack Vetis." He chuckled as she raised an eyebrow, "Don't know my heritage, no." He pulled his arm away and reached into a pocket, "Thought you looked interesting, would've talked to you earlier but you were with that guy."

Jade nodded; replying quickly, "He was just a friend."

Jack raised an eyebrow this time, "Oh? Nice to know. Want one?" He offered her a cigarette.

Jade nearly sighed in relief—whoever had said Chiclets were a good substitutes for cigs ought to be shot, "Thanks—"

"Jade!"

Both Jack and Jade turned to see John yelling out the passenger-side window of a bright yellow taxicab. Jade groaned, and pushed the cigarettes back toward Jack, "Sorry, can't. I should actually go."

Jack nodded in John's direction, a look of curiosity on his face.

"Older…brother." She replied quickly, and started across the street to where John and Chas were standing.

"Well, if you ever need a tour of this part of town, you call me up, okay?" Jack handed her a piece of paper with his name and number already pre-scribbled on it. He gave her a hopeful look, and she faltered.

"Um…okay, sure. Thanks. I'd…like that." She muttered, turning to give him a slight smile, and walked over to John and Chas.

"Who the hell was that?" John demanded as she reached them.

"Jack…I just met him," Jade offered, and John narrowed his eyes at the retreating boy. There was something strange about him, something he couldn't quite place, and that irked him. He was used to being able to see everything and anything, and in the past twenty-four hours he'd seen not one but _two_ people his psychic force couldn't figure out. Jade was one of them. John sighed, and marked that down to her being a teenager, and female. Chas was, after all, was hardly a teenager—more an overgrown boy—and John barely remembered his teenage years. Quite possibly, he'd just been around too many demons lately, and forgotten what people were actually like. Well, that didn't mean he had to enjoy being in the dark, he supposed, and he huffed, making his way into the bowling alley.

Chas looked distracted as Jack walked away, the air shimmering slightly about him. He wasn't sure, but there was something otherworldly about Jack, and he intended to find out what that was.

Jade glared at him, and Chas held up both hands in mock surrender, "I didn't say anything!" Jade rolled her eyes, but followed him silently.

* * *

Angela bit back the bile as she watched the med-team slowly lower the man's body from the ceiling and flip him over. Weiss, her most recent partner, gave her a concerned look, but she shook her head furiously. The man was most certainly dead, the wound that had most certainly killed him being the large gash in his right side. Weiss turned to her, "Definitely serial material?" 

Angela shook her head again, "No. Serial killers of this nature are…reclusive, and therefore often study their craft and victims in high detail. It was a crucifixion…but Jesus' right side was the one pierced with the spear, not the left. It doesn't make sense…the lapse in judgment…it's got to…it's got to mean something."

Weiss sighed heavily, "Angela, perhaps they just forgot? Or didn't research that aspect of it?"

"No, no, I don't think so. I don't think that was it."

"Then what could it have been?"

Angela turned her head so she wouldn't have to look into the dead man's eyes, "I don't know. But I intend to find out. I have to see Mr. Constantine." Angela muttered the last sentence quickly, and to herself. Weiss's eyes narrowed, and she gave him a defiant glare, informing the med-team, "Let me know if you find anything unusual."

One of the members pointed up and she stepped forward, peering curiously at the symbol she had taken moments before to be a mass of blood, perhaps an outpouring of a popped artery, but no…it was a curious symbol. Immediately her hand flew to her neck, and she tucked the necklace below her blouse, before copying it down on a small pad of paper.

"Thank you," she turned to Weiss, "I'll be back in the office at the latest tomorrow. I need to…talk to John, see if he'll help."

Weiss nodded mutely, and Angela turned and hurried out the door.

* * *

John was already drinking by the time Chas and Jade made it up the stairs. Chas groaned, "You know John, that stuff's not much better than cigarettes." John gulped the rest of the liquor down, ignoring Chas, and set the glass on the table none too lightly. John walked over to a cabinet where Chas knew he kept all his exorcism gear, "John? John, what are you doing?" 

John pulled out a wicked-looking scythe made from melted down artifacts, and twisted it over in his hand experimentally. Jade and Chas looked at each other, and John dropped the scythe, letting it clatter loudly on top of a wooden dresser, "I'm going to shave, and we're going."

John was already in the bathroom, water running, when Chas yelled, "John! Where are we going! I just parked the car!" He pounded on the door in futility, and turned back to Jade, who was no longer watching him amusedly but had picked up his book where she'd left off. Isis was swishing her tail contentedly, and John didn't respond, so Chas plopped himself down on the couch next to Jade, pouting slightly.

Jade waved the book in front of his face, "You read this crap?"

Chas looked affronted, "It's not _crap,_" he protested, and Jade raised an amused eyebrow, "No, really, it's actually interesting, especially with John around, you know…"

"Yeah, what does John do for a living, anyway?" Jade asked, absently curious.

Chas blinked, and then realized there actually hadn't been any explanations yet, "Well, uh, he…um…well, he…does—"

"Exorcisms." John interjected, and both teenagers jumped as he walked out of the bathroom, "I'm an exorcist."

Jade looked only slightly disbelieving, "Ah. Well, that explains it." She muttered. John ignored her as she continued to mutter under her breath, picking up the phone and dialing.

"Dammit, pick up," he was muttering into the receiver, and Chas took this opportunity to ask again, "John? Where are we going?"

John turned slightly, still half-holding the receiver, "Midnite's, get the car." Chas was halfway out the door before John finished the sentence. John motioned to Jade to go with him, and, in the interest of keeping peace, she followed Chas out the door.

"Goddammit, Angela, where are you?"

* * *

Angela was on the highway. She was already on the verge of speeding, so when her cell phone started ringing, she decided she'd better not tempt traffic officials—even if she was LAPD, there were still the damn cell-phone laws that applied to everyone. She took the turnoff to John's road, the phone still ringing angrily. Finally, she gave up, and flipped it open, "Dodson." The line was dead. 

"Dammit," she muttered.

* * *

Hey, guys, thanks a ton for reviewing: MrSmithConstantine101-I'm glad you like it! Hope you keep reading, **blaznaznbabydoll-Saaya...the papaya...of the islands, **Chiara-Italy? Awesome, I'm going to school there next year. In Tokyo, currently. Glad you like my story, **Silverbloodrain-Thanks for sticking by! Keep reading, **ihatecliffhangers-Extortion? Bribery? I suppose so, is it working? Sorry 'bout the cliffie :S, Evelyn Valerious-My very first reviewer, thanks for sticking by me, **jeayniee **& Kyoko Kasshu Minamino -Sorry, another semi-suspenseful chapter..., **YukeBaby-Thanks a ton, and I really like your story!**

Alright you guys, I'm writing, I'm writing, and wow, this story seems to have a mind of its own! So I can tell you now that you have at least seven more chapters to look forward to--and we're only _just_ getting into the real plot of the story. So, please keep reading, I promise it'll get better! Ya'll are amazing. There are no words.

Jake

Next update: May 28, 2005 or at 10+ Reviews for this chapter


	10. X: When the Clock Strikes Midnite

Part X: When the Clock Strikes Midnite

Jade and Chas followed John down the plush red-carpeted steps, into the exclusive, and—as Chas had pointed out earlier—legendary bar. John didn't look at all surprised when they were greeted by Papa Midnite himself instead of by the usual bouncer with a trick-card. The imposing African shaman was smoking wispily, his fedora tilted down over his eyes in a mysterious manner.

"John," he greeted softly, in a heavily accented voice. "I thought you said she didn't have it."

John looked at him silently for a moment, then walked past Midnite and into the club. Chas started sputtering about the disrespect John was showing toward one of the most legendary warriors in exorcism history, but John held up an abrupt hand, and Chas fell silent. Midnite chuckled behind them, and intercepted their path, leading them to the back room. Jade, bringing up the very rear, was silently fascinated by the atmosphere of the club, but eyed the expensive, mystic-decorated chamber—like everything else—with passive indifference. The small troupe reached the back room, the quilted door swinging open almost immediately, and Midnite led them inside. He gestured to the plush armchairs, "Please, sit."

Chas plopped eagerly into the nearest chair, while Jade cautiously slid onto the right side of a loveseat. John remained standing, not to anyone's surprise. Midnite himself sat down behind a large wooden table and tapped his cigar casually on the edge of an ashtray.

"This is Jade," John introduced her curtly, and gestured at Chas, "and Chas. You've met him."

"Yes, yes, my pleasure, Miss Jade." Midnite took the proffered hand and kissed it gallantly. John rolled his eyes, and Midnite turned to Chas. "Angel, I see."

Chas was bouncing up and down in his seat excitedly.

Jade slouched, shooting a glance at Chas, '_Angel_', she mouthed. He shrugged tersely, so she decided to let it go.

"As I was saying," Midnite continue, settling back into his seat, "Won't you sit, John?"

John looked exasperated, but seated himself rigidly on the loveseat next to Jade.

"I thought you said she didn't have the gift."

Jade had to lean back considerably, as John was now obstructing her direct connection to Chas, and mouthed silently to the boy, '_gift'_? Chas shrugged again, though he looked suspiciously unconfused, considering. She narrowed her eyes, but turned back to John and Midnite, who were still talking.

"She doesn't have the gift, Midnite. The entire reason she was born was so she wouldn't have the gift."

"Things don't always work out," Midnite said, extinguishing his cigar in the ashtray, "as planned, John. You know that as well as I. Of course," he muttered softly to himself, "It would make sense…it runs in the family…"

"But—"

"I don't have any gifts," Jade interjected, "Sorry to disappoint. I'm just plain, boring, and slightly thrown by all this voodoo shit."

Midnite chuckled, "Voodoo shit? Of course." He picked up a bowl of water and set it in front of him, muttering several phrases and then dropping a couple of colorful glass beads in the bowl. They rolled around in the bottom, letting off an oily residue that floated to the top, forming soap-like patterns. Chas watched, fascinated, while John and Jade rolled their eyes simultaneously.

"Truly blood," Midnite muttered to himself. He dropped a pinch of salt in the mixture and the patterns dissipated instantaneously. Jade felt a sensational burning in her chest. Slowly, she lifted her pendant from where it was tucked beneath her shirt, and found it glowing, edges ringed in the bright purple of the interwoven circle.

She raised her eyes to his, "Neat trick."

Midnite chuckled, a low growl of a laugh, but laughter nonetheless, "Yes, I thought so. If you did not have the gift, you would not feel the power of that amulet you wear. Do you know the significance of the Trinity?" He gestured at her pendant.

Jade laughed nervously, "Um, no…I'm sorry, but you're mistaken. There is no significance; it's just a good-luck charm." She glanced at John and Chas, who were now both watching with curious fascination at the exchange.

"I'm sure it is," Midnite nodded, reaching over to lift the pendant in his fingers, "These are of great significance, when worn by those with the gift. Do you know how they are made? They are formed from adamantine, a mythical ore rarely found anymore, and blessed by the Pope. To have any power, they must be formed in threes, and when blessed, the adamantine gives way to three types of metal—one of each of the pendants becomes one of the three precious metals, platinum, gold, and silver. A sort of mythical alchemy, if you will."

Chas stared in wonder, while Jade looked skeptical.

John snorted, "Yeah, right."

Midnite glared, "No, true Trinity amulets are rare…if each wearer of the three amulets born of the same ore has the gift, there is a strong psychic connection between them. It was a way for those with the gift to communicate over long distances."

"Was?" John asked, a skeptical glare still plastered across his face.

"Well, most of the amulets were lost in the crusades," Midnite explained. "It is rare to find a true one, and worn by one with the gift, no less." He looked at Jade approvingly, but she only scowled.

"I still think this is a load of bullshit," she muttered.

Midnite shrugged, "A problem they had with the amulets was that if the wearer of the platinum amulet ever switched planes, the power of the amulet would pull the other two wearers with him or her. They found this to be an issue, but also an effective way of rooting out evil."

John was on his feet, leaning across the table and staring hard at Midnite, whose eyes were still shaded downward, "Yes, John?"

"Could the amulet pull someone who wasn't immersed in the universal conduit?" He hissed.

"Water?" Midnite glanced up, "Why don't you ever just call it water, John. You're extremely histrionic, you know."

"Thank you. Answer?" John was not in the mood for games.

"No. Of course not. The only beings that can cross the planes without lubrication are those of divine nature, you know this."

John sat back down, obviously frustrated.

"Maybe it _was_ just a dream," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" Jade interjected yet again, "I still don't know what the hell you two are talking about, but I don't have any fucking gift, so just stop it, alright?"

Midnite gave her an appraising look, which she returned defiantly, "You've never had any…dreams, of any sorts?"

"Everyone dreams," she said flatly, "That's nothing special."

"No," he agreed, "But what about your nightmares? Ever too real?"

Jade's eyes widened suddenly, as a flood of memories came rushing back.

* * *

_"Mommy?" Jade whimpered, tugging at the comforter of her parent's bed, "Mommy I had a bad dream."  
_

_"Huh…" Her mother opened sleepy eyes. "Jade, what's wrong?"_

_"Mommy." Jade was crying, silent tears streaming down her face. "I had a dream…I dreamed that I was in…a bad place, Mommy, a bad place called Hell."_

_Her mother was up immediately, sitting, glaring at the small girl._

_ "No, Jade, you didn't. You didn't dream that. Go back to your room."_

_"Mommy, Mommy, I'm scared though, Mommy, please—" Jade was crying as her mother pushed her back into her room, shutting the door and turning off the light._

_

* * *

_

"Everyone has nightmares," she muttered, and Midnite nodded again.

"Did you ever see anything? Anything people told you was just in your imagination? Anything that was so horrifying that you couldn't believe your imagination could possibly be making it up?" Midnite prodded gently, and Jade gasped, her eyes widening once more.

* * *

_Jade was six years old, and her mother had called to her to get the door. She opened it slowly, sensing something evil on the other side. She peeked around the door to find a tall, imposing man looking down at her. He was impeccably dressed, and he gave her a saccharine smile. She watched, in horror, as the flesh of his right cheek slowly melted away, revealing a mess of rotting, maggot-torn decay…_

_She began to cry, as her mother pushed the door open further, from behind her, "Mr. Canes," her mother whispered softly, "We don't have the money yet, I'm sorry." The man nodded, understanding. Jade felt a wave of revulsion wash over her, but stood, clinging to her mother's leg. The man looked down at her and gave her another sickeningly sweet smile, "Of course, Mrs. Constantine. I understand." With that, he left, walking down the wind-beaten path, and Jade watched in horror and fascination as the perfect suit melted from his body._

_"Mommy," she whispered to her mother, tugging on her pant-leg, "That man was bad, Mommy!"_

_Her mother sighed, gazing down at her six year old, "No, Jade, he was the landlord. And this is the first time in months that he's been understanding about the rent." She wiped her hands on a towel, and turned to go back into the living room, when Jade tugged on her pants again._

_ "Mommy, he was a…he was from Hell." Jade whispered the word in awe, wondering where in her tiny subconscious such a word had come from. Her mother froze, and looked down dangerously._

_ "No, Jade. He was not." _

_"Yes, Mommy, I could see! I could see him! He was a…a demon, Mommy, he was a demon and I'm scared!"_

_Her mother knelt beside her, placing both hands on her shoulders, "No, Jade, he was not a demon! You did not see a demon! Good little girls do not lie!"_

_"Yes, I did, Mommy!" Her mother looked so dangerous and angry that Jade had started crying, "Yes, I did! I wouldn't lie! I wouldn't!"_

_ "NO!" Her mother screamed at her, and Jade shook frightfully, "THERE IS NO SUCH THING! Do you UNDERSTAND ME!"_

_"Mommy, I'm not lying, I promise, Mommy, I…" Jade was screaming too, scared to death of this person that was not her usual mother._

_"Yes, you are! You are, you little piece of shit, and you did not see a demon! They don't exist! Do you understand me? Do you fucking understand!"_

_"Mommy…"_

_"DO YOU UNDERSTAND!"_

_"…Yes. Yes, Mommy, I do." Jade whimpered softly, saying anything to make her mother stop yelling._

_"Good! What did you see, then?"_

_"Just a man, Mommy. Not a demon. Demons don't exist."_

_Her mother visibly relaxed, and Jade could see tired circles around her eyes, "Right, kiddo. I'm sorry I screamed at you, I'm sorry baby." She tried to gather her daughter in a hug, but Jade squirmed out of her mother's grasp, running up the stairs to her room, "I didn't see anything," she whispered to herself, as she ran into her room, slamming the door, "I didn't see anything."_

_

* * *

_

Jade was gasping for air as she drowned in the memories. John reached over and awkwardly patted her back, and she recoiled violently at his touch. Midnite was giving her an empathic look, and Chas looked scared.

Her head rose, her eyes wild and she pushed the dry tears from her cheeks swiftly, "I'm sorry, Midnite, no. I don't see anything, and I never did." Her tone was flat, dead and empty. Midnite nodded, a mixture of intrigue and sympathy in his eyes, and did not press the matter.

The four sat in silence for a moment, until John raised his gaze to Midnite's, "There's another thing, Midnite. What can you tell me about rakshasa?"

Midnite glanced up in surprise, dark fire in his eyes, "Tell me, John, that you have not encountered rakshasa."

They shared a long glance, and Midnite sighed, "Perhaps," he muttered, absently moving several rune stones across a worn checkerboard in front of him, "She has more than the gift."

* * *

A/N: 

Much thanks to my awesome beta--**Daydreamer731**!

The plot thickens…a lot…wow…I'm so intrigued as to know what's going to happen next, and I actually _know_ what's going to happen next (sad, isn't it?). Anyway, I have great plans for this story, so if you'd review and tell me what you think, I'd be delighted to share them with you! (Well, that is, I'd be delighted to post the next chapter). Anywho, thanks to everyone who reviewed, and everyone reading this story, because you guys are awesome and inspiring!

**jeayniee** Wow, you reviewed so fast! I'm impressed!

**Silverbloodrain **Jack does sound a bit shady, right? Well maybe he is, but maybe he isn't…keep reading to find out!

**Evelyn Valerious **Haha, you'll find out a little bit more about Jack in the next chapter…but you'll have to draw your own conclusions as to _who_ he is.

**Osage **Yeah…it'll open up even more…but don't worry, there IS an ending! LOL, thanks for reviewing!

**MrSmithConstantine101 **Did I mention I love your name? Thanks for reviewing!

**Chiara **Happy Birthday! A couple days late! How old are you? I'll be studying in Florence, through the NYU abroad program. Tokyo's pretty crazy, but I hear Italy's insane! Thanks for reviewing!

**angie232 **You'll definitely see more of Jade in the next few chapters. Hopefully this chapter provided a bit of insight on her!

**Crystalline Sacchrine **Thanks for reviewing!

**YukeBaby **Don't worry, Angela and Jade meet soon (poor Angie) and Jack is...well, Jack. You'll see...

Thanks for all the great reviews, guys, keep it coming! Next update: **June 4, 2005 or at 10+ reviews for this chapter!**

Jake


	11. XI: Old Ghosts

Part XI: Old Ghosts

"The rakshasa are an ancient demon of African folklore." Midnite watched as John and Chas nodded emphatically. "Lower-caste demon, the lowest caste, in fact, that can cross over."

"They can cross _over_?" John hissed, letting out a deep breath, and glancing at his two younger companions. "Perhaps we should do this alone."

"Perhaps." Midnite waited pointedly as Chas huffed out of the room and Jade followed, her expression blank. "Yes, so no-no sending them back to Hell for being on our plane, John," Midnite warned, pausing. "Though, if the rakshasa are here, perhaps there is reason to deport them."

John nodded, and Midnite could see the gleam of danger in his eyes.

"John," he sighed, "You know I am neutral, and therefore cannot tell you any more than that."

John nodded, looking slightly peeved.

"Yeah, but come on Midnite, what am I supposed to do?"

Midnite shrugged one shoulder and lit up another cigar, exhaling a ring of smoke in John's face.

"Check the scrolls, John. Beeman's not here anymore, but everything still works the same way. And keep track of your sister. If I remember correctly, there is a prophecy…" Midnite chewed on the end of his cigar thoughtfully. "But you'll need to figure that out for yourself."

John groaned in frustration.

"Midnite…"

"_No_, John, you know that as long as the Balance remains intact, I _am neutral_. And there is nothing to say the Balance has been upset, therefore I cannot. But here…" Midnite handed him a worn, leather-bound journal. "If you can swallow your pride enough to read it, it will be of great help."

John nodded mutely, and tucked the book in his coat pocket, "Thanks for the help, Midnite," he all but sneered, and turned to leave.

"Of course, John," Midnite muttered, "Of course."

* * *

Chas leaned awkwardly on a barstool next to the empty bar. Jade stood quietly, her expression still blank as she stared off into the distance. Chas jumped as she turned abruptly on him.

"Chas—"

"Yeah?"

"What was Midnite talking about…when he said something about it running in the family…?"

"Uh," Chas was stuck, "Well…"

"What?"

"John sort of…is an exorcist."

"Yeah…I know that."

Chas threw a helpless glance toward the door of the back room before caving.

"He has the gift too."

Jade's curious expression flickered for a second, as she took in this information—

"_Mommy, Mommy, I'm scared though, Mommy, please—" Jade was crying as her mother pushed her back into her room, shutting the door and turning off the light. The next day she heard her parents talking, in hushed tones, of her and a boy called John.—_

Jade expelled her breath forcefully. John was the reason. John was the reason her mother didn't only hate her—hate she could have taken. John was the reason her mother _feared_ her. When she'd been a little girl, she couldn't understand why her mother whispered furious prayers in Latin over her bedroom door every night—why her mother would go into screaming, violent fits if Jade mentioned anything supernatural—why her mother would went through stages of fearful indulgence to unnatural hatred in their rapidly deteriorating relationship. Why, the last words her mother had screamed at her before the accident had been "_You little piece of shit! How did I ever bring you into this world!" _

Granted, it had only been a routine argument between mother and teenage daughter—and her mother was prone to heavy drinking and violent words—so it had been nothing…extremely out of the ordinary at the time. But, secretly, Jade had always wondered how a mother could say such words to her daughter…and now she knew.

_John_.

She bit back a wave of nausea as she gazed at Chas in distress.

"I…" her voice was an ashy whisper, "I need to get out of here."

Chas cocked his head curiously; concern plastered across his boyish face once more, and moved to reach out to her.

She shook her head fiercely.

"No, Chas…I need to get _out_."

She turned and fled, stumbling past the chairs and tables, through the roped entryway and up the plush stairs. Vaguely, she could hear Chas calling her name in the distance, but she kept running as fast as she could, until her breath was burning in her lungs. When she stopped, slumping against the faded brick wall of a liquor store, the tears came freely and silently. Her shoulders were wracked with sobs as she slid down the rough wall, curling her knees against her chest and burying her face in that thick curtain of hair.

* * *

"Jade? Jade, are you okay?"

She looked up through her tangle of hair to see someone standing over her.

"Jade, what's wrong?"

Jade wiped her tears away, and took a deep breath, standing up easily.

"Jack?"

He gave her a crooked smile.

"Hey. What are you doing alone? In this neighborhood? It's not safe."

Jade looked at her surroundings warily. It was only the early evening, but there were already nightwalkers talking casually on street corners.

"I…I got lost."

"Oh?" Jack gave her a concerned look. "Are you sure you're okay? You looked like you were crying."

"Yeah…I…it's nothing," she muttered, shaking her head. "Sorry. I don't know where I am, though. Perhaps you could help me?"

He chuckled.

"Sure, I'll take you home, if you want."

"No…no, not yet. I just want to take a walk, if that's okay. Then I'll go back."

Slight confusion marred Jack's handsome face, but he nodded.

"Sure, whatever you want. Let's get out of this section of town, though, all right?"

"Yeah." Jade gave him a relieved smile. "Thanks for…rescuing me."

"No problem." Jack grinned back at her.

* * *

Angela was still in her car. She'd stopped by John's, but he hadn't been there. So, she was going to the next place she could think of, where someone might be able to help her. Papa Midnite's.

She was currently in a fairly dangerous section of town, so she kept her doors and windows shut. Girls stood on the street corners, and skulking men acknowledged them. Angela was in the midst of feeling an overwhelming amount of pity for the lives these girls led when she focused on a particular corner. A dark-haired girl was standing beside a liquor store, talking to a boy a couple of inches taller than her. Neither looked like the usual crowd that frequented this section of town, the boy messily handsome, and the girl tall and proud.

A flash of recognition shot through Angela, and she rolled down her window and called out tentatively.

"Jade?"

The girl looked up, her eyes blank, and pushed her hair back from her face.

"Who are you."

It wasn't a question, it was a dull, flat statement, and Angela paused.

"I'm…I've seen you before, haven't I?" She didn't want to risk alienating the girl by alluding to their earlier meeting in Hell. "I'm detective Angela Dodson, LAPD."

The girl's eyes widened, recognition in more forms than one, and stared at her flatly.

"You were in my dream."

"Your dream?"

"Yes. My dream."

"Oh, um, right. I must have met you earlier, but I didn't catch your full name?"

The girl gave her a wary look, and she watched her weigh the consequences on her face. Ultimately, it appeared as though pride and indifference won out, because the girl spoke nonchalantly.

"Constantine. Jade Constantine."

"I'm sorry, _Constantine_?"

Oh yes, that was where she'd heard the name 'Jade' before.

"Yes."

"Get in."

"Fuck, no."

_John's sister? _Angela thought to herself, _Wow, I _really_ couldn't tell._

"Please," Angela amended. "This is a dangerous section of town, and I know your brother."

One eyebrow slid upward.

"And that's supposed to reassure me?"

"Well, what are you going to do otherwise?" Angela asked logically. "Stand here all night?"

Jade gave her a measuring look.

"I was going to," she gestured at the boy standing with her, who was watching the exchange with little curiosity, "take a walk."

"Please?" Angela smiled tentatively. "I'm sure John is wondering where you are."

"I'm sure he is."

"Go with her," the boy interrupted. "I have to meet someone later, anyway."

Angela gave him a grateful look, and he nodded imperceptibly. Jade glanced at him, obviously annoyed.

"Fine. I'll see you later, Jack."

The boy nodded, and whispered something to her, before strolling down the sidewalk toward the heart of the district. Angela briefly wondered why he was going deeper into this section of town as she unlocked the passenger door. Jade opened it and stepped in cautiously. Angela waited until she was settled before starting the car up again. The two sat in tense silence at the stoplight, Jade flipping down the mirror and brushing her hair back to reveal smooth olive skin and eyes that looked as though they'd been crying.

"Are you okay?" Angela asked quietly.

"Yeah," Jade replied, staring out the window. "Just some old ghosts."

"Right." Angela drove silently.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed: MrSmithConstantine101, fanficgeek, Silverbloodrain, Evelyn Valerious, Kyoko Kasshu Minamono! 

I promise it gets better!

Next update: June 11, or at 10+ Reviews

Jake


	12. XII: Prophecies

Part XII: Prophecies

"Look, it really wasn't my fault. I told her you had the gift, too, that's all. She didn't take it well." Chas was the picture of contrition, and John looked…well, more than slightly annoyed, was how Chas would classify it. "John? John, speak to me, man!"

John raised an eyebrow at Chas, who was sinking to his knees in conviction, and snorted.

"Get up."

Chas stood, brushing himself off.

"Sorry."

John rolled his eyes and started across the street.

"John? John, wait up." Chas trotted after him.

* * *

Angela pulled up next to Midnite's and parked her black dodge. She opened her door, and got out, pointedly staring at Jade, who was still sitting in the car.

"What?" Jade asked insolently, "They're not here."

"How do you know?"

"Taxi's gone."

"Oh. I guess…that makes sense."

"Yeah."

Angela bit her lip. _What is it with the __Constantine__ family and that biting cynicism?_ She thought to herself, debating whether or not to get back in the car.

"You know what?"

Jade stared straight ahead.

"No."

Angela sighed.

"I need to see Midnite quick, anyway, do you want to come? Or would you rather stay in the car?"

Jade continued to stare into the distance, resolutely.

"…Right. I'll be back in a second."

Jade unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the passenger-side door.

"…Or, you can come with me."

Jade gave her a curt nod, her expression carefully blank.

"I need to see Midnite, too," she replied simply, and strode across the street. Angela closed her door and clicked the lock button twice, before hurrying to catch up with Jade. It wasn't much past dark, but there were already regulars heading into the club. Angela could see their eyes gleam in the moonlight, and shuddered as a mass of demons came slithering past her. Jade ignored pretty much everyone and everything, looking haughty and arrogant and unimpressed.

_She looks like John, _Angela noted, _when he's trying to not be scared_.

"Detective…" A hiss over her shoulder, and Angela turned, startled. Jade turned, as well, only she managed to make it deliberate and calm. It was as though her earlier tears had left her devoid of any emotion or response. A young woman stood beside them, with mid-waist blonde hair and gleaming blue eyes.

"So you're the exorcist's pretty little thing…" The demon's lips curled in a slight sneer. "I can't account for his taste…" she whispered, hissing her s's slightly.

"I'm sorry." Angela stood her ground, slowly reaching for the gun around her waist, but the demon placed a long-nailed hand on her wrist.

"Don't bother, I'm not here to cause trouble, dear," she hissed softly, "I just wanted to…meet you."

Angela went rigid as the demon brought a hand to her cheek and stroked it in a disturbingly loving manner.

"Well, nice to meet you, then," she muttered, and moved to leave.

"Ashtaroth," the demon chuckled, "my name is Ashtaroth. Remember it."

Angela nodded curtly.

"Ashtaroth."

The demon's gleaming eyes flickered back toward Jade, who was still standing off to the side. Her hand drew back sharply from Angela's cheek.

"The prophecy!" it hissed, recoiling slightly.

Angela glanced over her shoulder at Jade, and back to the demon, which looked more wary than lazily seductive as it had before. It took all of a minute for it to recompose itself, however, and it flashed her one more lazy grin before jaunting off, heels clicking against the pavement.

Angela blinked at Jade for a second, who stared mutely back. Angela opened her mouth to ask, but then shook her head.

"Nevermind. Let's…drop in for a second."

Jade didn't show any response, but followed Angela into the club.

* * *

John was flipping absently through a book, reading a couple of sentences and then moving to the next page, occasionally pausing to take a sip of whiskey. Chas was pacing before the many-windowed side of his apartment, sighing heavily, wings flexing distractedly.

"John? Do you think she'll come back?" Chas asked, for about the fifty-eighth time in the past half hour.

John didn't look up from his reading material, and offered the same answer as he had fifty-seven times earlier, "Don't know, kid."

"John?"

John grunted, and turned a page.

"John, this is kind of important."

John grunted again, took a sip of whiskey, and turned another page.

"John this is _really_ important."

John looked up this time, but only to pour himself some more whiskey, gave Chas a measuring glance, and then turned back to his book, grunting yet again.

"John, I think she's part of a prophecy."

John's head snapped up.

"What?"

Chas was leaning over the table, angel eyes boring into him.

"I said, I think she's part of a—"

John cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I know what you said, kid. What do you know about a prophecy? _How_ do you know about a prophecy?"

Chas shrugged.

"I read, John."

John gave him an indignant look, and gestured at the book lying in front of him.

"No, John, I _actually_ read."

John rolled his eyes, and leaned back in his chair, giving Chas center-stage. Chas sighed.

"I read about it somewhere…it's called the Prophecy of Laodicea. I thought it was about you for a little bit, but then that didn't make sense, because—well, look." Chas picked up a pen lying next to John's book and flipped to the back cover of the book, where there was enough blank space for him to write. "The prophecy's fulfillment is the most important in all of history—it determines which way the apocalypse goes, in the direction of Revelations from the Bible, or Revelations from the Bible of Hell." John raised an eyebrow, but Chas could tell he was at least mildly impressed.

Chas started to scribble down the words, and John read them upside down.

"_When the fires have been breached by the son of God for the second time, he will call upon Satan to bring down his own brethren. If the son has both divinity in friends and truth in blood, he shall succeed in bringing about Hell's suppression; However, if his blood sways in unity, Lucifer shall grasp the son in his fiery jaws, and Hell will rule eternal."_

Chas sat back, pleased with himself. John cocked his head, and then frowned at Chas.

"Are you sure this is real?"

"Who's the angel, here, buddy? Who sits in the car all day and reads?"

John nodded, and flipped the book over so he could further ponder the words.

"What the fuck made you think it was about me?"

"Well," Chas said, using his pen as a pointer, "see how it talks about breaching the fires of Hell for the second time? You did that…you died twice. Also, you called upon Satan to bring down Mammon, his own brethren." Chas paused to take a breath, but started up again before John could say anything.

"Now, see how it talks about divinity in friends and truth in blood? I think divinity in friends refers to me, and Gabriel, and any other angel friends you might have lying about…and truth in blood could mean your sister. Someone whose blood was linked to yours."

"I had parents, Chas," John looked unimpressed.

"No, see, that's what's great about this! It's translated from Latin, and in Latin, the word for 'true' means 'real', 'complete', and 'entire'. So, parents wouldn't work, because you only have one half of their heritage. No, these words were definitely referring to a sibling—like Jade."

John nodded reluctantly; so far it was making a semi-sense. He grabbed the pen from Chas and underlined the last part.

"_…if his blood sways in unity, Lucifer shall grasp the son in his fiery jaws, and Hell will rule eternal…_Now, what does this mean?"

Chas blinked, and perused the circled words briefly.

"Well, the last part just says that if Hell succeeds, Satan will rule the earth."

"I could have guessed that, thank you, Chas, and the rest?"

"I…I don't know."

"What do the books say?"

"The books…well," Chas chuckled, "The books are sort of…ambiguous on the matter."

"Ambiguous? I thought this was the most famous prophecy in history?"

"Right, so there're a lot of people trying to analyze it. Lots of room for interpretation."

John's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And what do the books say?"

"They're…slightly different from my interpretation," Chas offered meekly. "But I promise, I'm right!"

John closed the cover of the book and tossed it across the room.

"Right. So you actually have _no idea_ if the prophecy is about me, or not. In fact, it's probably not, is it?"

"Well…that…_is_ what the books would say. Actually, they say it's about the Son of Man. You know, Jesus."

John sighed.

"Just as well. I don't need that much pressure, anyway. But now we're right back at the beginning." He gulped down the rest of his whiskey. "I'm going to bed." He got up and dumped the glass in the sink.

"Wait, John," Chas started, as John walked into the bedroom area and slammed the partition, "John, I seriously think we should look at that prophecy! Really! And what about Jade?"

He got no answer.

_Insane, _John was thinking to himself, _All of them, Midnite, Chas, the prophets. Where are Beeman and Hennessy when I actually need them? _He grunted to himself, turned off the lamp, and went to sleep.

* * *

Wow, 100 reviews! Thanks guys, especially those who reviewed this last chapter: **Angelnanoo**, Osage, **sumbum176**, morph, **Arin**** Ross**, Silverbloodrain**, fanficgeek**, MrSmithConstantine101, **Kyoko Kasshu Minamino**, Evelyn Valerious, **Mystic**

I hope you keep reading! Next update: June 16, 2005 or 10 reviews for this chapter

A/N: Now beta-d


	13. XIII: Interlude

Part XIII: Interlude

"John will be worried," Angela muttered, glancing at Jade in the passenger seat. Midnite's had proved unsurprisingly uneventful, the witch doctor meeting them both at the door and asking that Angela please come back the next day, as he was going to be busy for the rest of the night. Angela wasn't sure that was the entire truth, as she noticed his gaze flicker toward Jade.

"No he won't." Jade was staring out the window at the passing cars. It was nearly two in the morning. "He's probably asleep. Maybe Chas is still up."

Angela didn't bother arguing a she parked next to the building sporting the flickering '_Bowl, Bowl, Bowl'_ in fluorescents. Both women got out of the car, and Jade stared at her.

"I can go up myself. You don't need to walk me."

"I want to see if John's up," Angela started, watching as Jade shrugged a shoulder and turned to walk into the building. She hurried to catch up—she'd never seen anyone more self-involved, save for John himself. They reached the stairs at the same time and walked up together, side by side, in silence. Angela reached the door first, and rapped quietly on the marked surface. There was a loud thump, a muttered curse, and brief scuffling. Moments later, a weary-looking Chas peered around the door, his eyes widening in relief.

"Jade!" He paused momentarily and noted Angela. "Angela." He opened the door wider. "Come in."

As soon as the two stepped over the threshold, Chas grabbed Jade by the shoulders, turning her to him.

"Where were you? We were really worried! I'm sorry about what I told you, I didn't mean to…I mean, are you alright? Where did you go? How did you end up with Angela—"

Jade cut him off with a shake of her head.

"I'm okay, Chas, it was nothing. Don't worry about it. I'm really tired, can we talk later?"

Chas eyed her suspiciously, and then dropped his hands from her shoulders.

"Sure, yeah, okay. You probably are tired, we can talk later," he replied, turning to Angela. "John's asleep." He pointed toward the bedroom-area that was still partitioned off, and Angela nodded, stepping over a pile of blankets and sliding the partition open slightly.

Jade looked relieved.

"Thanks."

She gave him a small smile and walked past him to the bathroom.

* * *

"John?" Angela whispered, shaking him slightly. "John."

"Chas, unless you're dying—no, dead—I don't want to hear about it," John muttered sleepily, turning over.

"It's not Chas, John, it's me."

One eye opened sleepily.

"Oh, it's you."

"Yeah…" Angela leaned forward and pecked him quickly on the lips. "Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted you to know I brought Jade back—"

"That girl's more trouble than she's worth."

"—Tell me about it," Angela muttered. "And I was wondering if you knew any…thing by the name of Ashtaroth?"

John opened both his eyes and stretched his arms above his head.

"Ashtaroth? Demoness, wanted me pretty bad…promised great sex…"

"Um…what?" Angela cocked her head curiously.

"Demon of seduction," John muttered, looking at the ceiling, "never liked me much for turning her down."

"Right," Angela decided to let it go. "She said something about a prophecy…do you know anything about a prophecy?"

Surprise and slight annoyance flashed through John's eyes, but he continued to stare at the ceiling.

"Prophecies are bullshit. Probably something to do with Jade, right?"

"Actually, I think so."

"Yeah. Nah, it's nothing."

"Okay…" Angela wondered briefly if he was keeping something from her. "All right, well I should get home then."

"Mmm," John reached an arm briefly around her and pulled her down beside him, kissing her possessively. "'Night."

Angela smiled, getting up off the bed as John gazed lazily at her.

"'Night, John."

* * *

Chas was sitting at the table, waiting for Jade to finish with the bathroom, when Angela left, giving him a small wave. He was still sitting there fifteen minutes later, when he heard the water stop running. And another fifteen minutes after that, until he seriously considered knocking on the door and asking Jade if she'd fallen in. He was just about to do exactly that when the door swung open, and he found himself face-to-face (well, almost, she was a couple of inches shorter than him) with a mostly-dry Jade Constantine wrapped in a towel.

"Listen, Jade," Chas sputtered, "It's okay if you don't want to tell me but—" Chas watched as she walked past him and into the spare room, closing the door in his face, "—where were you," he finished quietly to the wooden door.

A couple of minutes later, Jade came out of the room, running a comb through her still-damp hair and wearing a cropped black t-shirt and black sweatpants. Chas was still standing there, looking slightly hurt and confused.

"Don't you ever wear another color?" He asked.

She combed her hair down in front of her face to part it, and looked up at him through the wet strands.

"I look good in black," she stated simply, walking past him to the kitchen area.

"No arguments there," Chas muttered, following her.

Chas leaned against the counter and watched as Jade leaned down and opened the cabinet under the sink. After a couple of minutes of rooting around, she popped back up with an old towel and a bottle of soap. She turned the hot-water knob and held her hand under the stream to judge the temperature, "Look, Chas, I really just don't want to talk about it right now," she said, without turning back to him, "Things are complicated."

Chas nodded.

"Right," and moved next to her, picked up the towel, and started drying the dishes she was washing. "I—we—were just worried, that's all."

She smiled gratefully at him.

"I've lived in LA all my life, Chas, and I can take care of myself."

"I know, I—" he started, defensively.

Jade held up a hand, and laughed lightly.

"I know what you mean, Chas, it's okay. It's nice to have someone who actually cares if I'm alive long enough to make it home. But you've known me all of a couple of days? Don't go grey."

Chas smiled.

"Yeah…but you're family."

She looked at him ruefully, and handed him the last plate.

"Family is what you make of it, Chas." Something dark flashed through her brown eyes. "But thanks. Thanks for caring." She whispered the last part, and dried her hands on the towel he was holding.

"Any time," Chas muttered, as Jade made her way over to the couch and stretched out on it. Her eyes fluttered shut as she pulled the blanket up around her chin and curled into sleep. "Anytime, Jade."

* * *

Aww…how sweet…and short, sorry about that. Next one is quite a bit longer, don't worry! I know you guys wanted JohnAngela, but admit it, the ChasJade is cute... Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you guys seriously inspire me! 

I heart: **Kyoko Kasshu Minamino**, Evelyn Valerious, **SilverBloodRain**, MrsShiaLabeouf, **fanficgeek**, morph, **Vampirehelsing**, the angel's halo, **Leila Tourniquet, **MrSmithConstantine101

If you need more JohnAngela fix, check out my latest (real) oneshot, _Nightwalker_, or my little fluffy ficlet, _Moving__ In_. And review!

You know the drill: June 21, 2005 or 10+ Reviews

Thanks to Daydreamer for beta-ing!

Jake


	14. XIV: Not Just Yet

Part XIV: Not Just Yet

The sky was grey. Grey, with streaks of brilliant fiery copper shooting across it as the sun crept its tentacles toward the smoggy skyline of Los Angeles. The air was crisp, smelling of asphalt, morning dew, and sea salt. There was a breeze, enough that Jade's dark hair was swirling around her as she stood above the faded bowling alley sign, above the empty streets, above the world, above her world. The morning was peaceful, and the city was silent, save for a couple of bicycles and motor scooters, and the occasional car or barking dog. Jade had slept fitfully, but, thankfully, without nightmares. She'd woken up several times at intervals during the night, and had decided upon the last awakening that she was pushing her luck with the nightmares.

In all, she'd probably slept about two and a half hours, but she felt surprisingly rested. And surprisingly at peace, as she watched the sun rise and the city come to life. More people were walking on the streets now, with the brisk pace of people who were going to work, she noted, the brisk pace of people whose biggest problem in life was making sure to arrive at work on time. A car full of teenagers drove by, seniors on their way to high school, where all the girls had to worry about was whether or not their shoes matched their bag. How she envied that life.

Jade had graduated high school a semester early, and was contemplating applications to college when her parents had died. She'd thought maybe early graduation would appease some part of them, but no. Nothing she did was ever good enough. She felt a bitter jolt—though, of much less intensity than the night before—rush through her as she realized, it was because of John. Every small thing her mother had jumped on, every time she couldn't please her parents, every time her mother had called her a freak…was because of John Constantine, and how he'd conditioned them to think before she'd come along. She leaned against the railing to the balcony where she stood, and sighed. Deep down, she knew it wasn't his fault…but it was hard to ignore that her mother would have been more accepting toward John than toward Jade—all because, with John, she hadn't been already made aware of the 'gift' that ran through his blood. It was hard not to be bitter.

But it was also hard not to be attracted to this older brother she'd never known she had. The little girl in her always wanted a big, protective, older brother to take care of her…and John was all that—tall, and handsome, and strong, and protective, mostly, anyway. And it was hard to ignore that, while he hadn't exactly welcomed her into his house with open arms, this was the first time she'd ever felt like she belonged somewhere. Like she could come back at the end of the day and be coming home instead of to an alien house where her father was never around and her mother was always angry. She liked John, despite his being part of the reason her childhood had been so rough. And she liked Chas, even though she kept getting the feeling there was something…different about him. And she liked their easy camaraderie, the relaxed atmosphere the entire apartment had, despite John's moaning about Chas's annoyingness. And…well, she didn't want to give any of that up, not just yet.

Jade turned and stepped back into the room, where Chas was sitting on the counter, a book in his lap, and a cup of coffee in his hand. She checked the clock; it was a quarter past six. She glanced over at the partition that separated John's room from the rest of the space; it hadn't moved. Jade nodded toward the partition.

"He's not a morning person, is he?"

Chas chuckled, without glancing up from where he was engrossed in his book.

"Not really, no. It's rare when John can actually sleep, so he tries to get as much as possible when he's having a good night." Chas glanced at the partition. "He's been having pretty good nights for a while now. At least a week."

Jade nodded, and poured herself a cup of coffee.

"What're you reading?"

Chas hopped off the counter.

"Prophecy of Laodicea: Translated." He showed her the cover, and sat down in one of the chairs, motioning for her to sit next to him. "It's the most famous prophecy of the Church doctrine, this is one translation of what it might mean. You see, here, it says the outcome of the fulfillment of this prophecy determines the direction of Revelations…It's actually quite hard to find translations of this prophecy, because the Church wants people to believe that God's painting of Revelations is the only one, but…"

Jade nodded, as Chas trailed off, explaining the various markings and symbols in the margins to her.

And that was how John found his two charges about an hour later—cozied up together over a large textbook and cups of coffee.

* * *

_"Ashtaroth…"_

_"This isn't going to work…they know…they know about the prophecy…"_

_"Only because you mentioned it!"_

_"No, because the witch-doctor…his oath of neutrality is more than…slightly ambiguous."_

_"You don't believe that leaving your mark won't be taken note of?"_

_"The exorcist…"_

_"Let me see the amulet…"_

_"No…we need the exorcist's…"_

_"He doesn't have it…but he does have the girl…"_

_"I know."_

_"Of course you do…wasn't that your job?" _

_"It's more complicated than one might perceive."_

_"Oh yes, poor little thing, Lucifer doesn't adore you anymore, does he."_

_"And now it's my job."_

_"And his little sweetheart?"_

_"Yes, that too."_

_"Nobody is fooled by your pretty looks, darling, don't bother."_

_"I am above this."_

_"Beautiful…the only one left unscathed is the little angel-boy."_

_"Shall I take care of him, too!"_

_ "Incubus."_

_"Succubus."_

_"Balthazar."_

_"No."_

_"Lucifer is not pleased. Is he ever? So it is imperative we hurry, do remember that __Constantine__ is the most powerful demon-hunter ever to be born, and any union between him and the pretty psychic or the little girl would be—"_

_"Lucifer's undoing."_

_

* * *

_

Angela put on a black skirt and white blouse, sliding her feet into black pumps and grabbing her keys. It was Sunday, and she was going to mass. She laughed bitterly at the mess that had been her faith before John Constantine had walked into her life. _Of all people_, she thought, _it took a cynical, damned, God-mocking exorcist to bring me closer to God._ Despite that John insisted God wasn't the loving Father the Bible portrayed him to be, Heaven seemed like a hell—pardon the pun—of a lot better than Hell to go to when one died. Angela grabbed her purse and dumped the keys, her gun, and the vial of dragon's breath into it, locked her door, and ran down the stairs of her apartment building.

* * *

"What are you doing?" A groggy John Constantine asked Chas, who looked up cheerily.

"Prophecy of Laodicea…" Jade muttered, her head still buried in the book.

John raised an eyebrow at Chas.

"Is that the…"

Chas nodded.

"The one about…"

Chas nodded again. John poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Don't scare her."

Chas rolled his eyes, and John narrowed his.

"I mean it."

"It's the Prophecy of Laodicea: _Translated_," Chas reassured John, "By someone other than Chas Kramer. Despite the fact that the truth lies with Chas Kramer…"

John snorted, and made his way to the refrigerator, rooting through it to find something decent to eat. He pulled out half a bar of chocolate (despite all the fruit and other healthy things, Jade thought to herself) and turned back to the two teens.

"Chas, are you doing anything today?"

"John, I'm an…uh…" Chas glanced at Jade. "No, I'm not."

"Take Jade out, I need to stop by the Church."

"You're going to mass?"

"No. I need to talk to Gabriel, and I hear he's been sulking about the Church since he lost his wings. Not much different from before."

"Oh. Uh, why are we going out?"

John shrugged.

"She probably needs some…stuff," he looked distinctly uncomfortable discussing female needs with anyone. "And we need to fix up the room."

"Oh, yeah."

"Here." John crossed the room to where his pants were lying and picked up his wallet, tossing a few of hundred dollar bills at Chas.

Chas picked them up.

"How…generous. Not to mention old-fashioned, John, do you always carry this much money around with you?"

John shrugged.

"Don't trust banks to get immediate money. Don't need the hassle of credit cards."

"Right…" Chas tucked the money in his pocket. Jade was still engrossed in the text of the prophecy, and she looked up when Chas nudged her gently.

Jade glanced at John, and then back at Chas.

"This prophecy's supposed to be about Jesus? It doesn't make sense."

"What?" Both Chas and John leaned forward, and Chas shot John an 'I-told-you-so' look.

"See here?" Jade circled three parts of the prophecy with her finger, "_…the son of God…the son…the son…_Who is the 'son', Jesus?"

The two men nodded, and she continued.

"But why is," she circled a portion of the textbook that was discussing the relevance of the Son of God, and then pointed back to the prophecy. "This word, 'son', never capitalized?"

Chas grinned.

"Because it's _not_ about Jesus Christ, it's about—"

John cut him off with a glare, and Chas faltered.

"It's only one translation," Chas muttered. "It could be the scribe."

Jade nodded, unsatisfied.

* * *

"Gabriel!" The mortal angel turned at the sound of his name being called through a pair of decidedly human lips. "Gabriel, I need to speak with you."

Gabriel nodded curtly, and motioned for Angela to sit beside him. She obeyed, and turned to him.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I—"

Gabriel smiled.

"Don't be, child, what's troubling you?"

"I had some…questions about my gift. Recently, I've been experiencing…transitions."

"Transitions?"

Angela sighed.

"Well, okay, just one transition, but I feel as though Hell is trying to pull me in at other times, and the only reason it can't is because I'm not in any way in contact with water."

Gabriel mused.

"Have you spoken with Midnite?"

Angela shook her head, frustrated.

"No, I have an appointment with him later today, though…"

The ex-angel nodded, smiling.

"Well, I'm sure he will have answers for you." Gabriel stood, crossing his arms and gazing into the stone fireplace. A tiny, amused smirk appeared on his lips. "Have you spoken with John?"

"No, Gabriel, she hasn't." Angela turned at the rough voice of John Constantine, who was standing behind them, one eyebrow raised, and both hands in his coat pockets. His stony gaze turned to her and she swallowed, hard. His face betrayed no emotion, but he gave an imperceptible shake of his head, denoting that he wanted to talk to her later—that they _would_ talk later, rather. She nodded, and John turned to Gabriel, smirking.

"How's this demotion going for you, Gabe?"

Gabriel's jaw twitched at the nickname, and he turned to narrow his eyes at John.

"What do you need, John."

John smiled, "Just a few answers. Like, the Prophecy of Laodicea?"

Gabriel looked slightly shocked, "The Prophecy of Laodicea?" His eyes narrowed again, "Who told you about that?"

"I have my sources, sit." John took a seat and motioned to a chair next to him, "And enlighten me."

"I am human now, just as you, John," The ex-angel replied, primly, "I cannot possibly know any more than you do."

"Right, Gabe, sure. Well, then, let me tell you what I know." Gabriel ignored the gleam in John's eye as he continued to speak, "Chas thinks it's about me. That's right, Chas, my little boyfriend, Heaven's newest half-breed, Chas. You know what Chas also thinks? Chas also thinks that Angela," John gestured at where Angela was standing, off to the side, "And Jade—have you heard? I have a little sister, and her name is Jade—are key to the prophecy. Also, Chas says the prophecy probably determines the outcome of the world—whether Heaven or Hell ends up ruling Earth. Now," John paused, for breath and effect, "Are you _sure _you don't want to tell me what you know about this?"

Gabriel remained impassive, "Nice, John, very nice," he muttered, huffing slightly. Giving a large, overly dramatic sigh, the ex-angel looked into John's eyes, which were still gleaming in a most unsettling way, "Fine, I admit that if any of what _Chas thinks_—is he your only source, by the way?—is true, there is something…important at hand. But I actually don't know any thing about the prophecy; it's not something Heaven tries to teach. However, I can direct you to someone who might help—but she doesn't take kindly to _discourteous strangers_," Gabriel paused to emphasize this, "Nor does she take kindly to friends of Midnite. Here."

The ex-angel scribbled a name and address on a piece of paper, "Lucky for you, she currently resides in the area." Gabriel handed it to him, and John nodded.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and Gabriel smiled.

"And John?" Gabriel called after him, "Do try not to fuck yourself over."

John sneered, motioned to Angela, and glanced down at the paper in his hand.

_Adila Abatyan_

_3002 Figueroa St._

_

* * *

_

Wow…let me just say I'm impressed with how fast you all reviewed…I hope you liked this chapter. Special thanks to: **Gladys Bagg**, Kyoko Kasshu Minamino**, MrsShiaLabeouf**, the angel's halo**, angie232**, morph, **Erin**, fanficgeek, **Evelyn Valerious**, YukeBaby, **MrSmithConstantine**, SilverBloodRain

June 22 or 10+ Reviews.

Thanks to Daydreamer for beta-ing.

Jake


	15. XV: Adila

Part XV: Adila

Jade glanced through the glass pane of the front of the store. Chas was leaning against the railing of a balcony, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking slightly impatient and mostly bored. Jade stifled a laugh, "Boys," she muttered to herself, and went back to perusing the racks of Wet Seal. She figured that when John said 'stuff' he was probably referring to various items, clothing included—after all, she only had two pair of pants, and a couple of shirts. So they had gone to the mall, and Jade had been browsing for more than a little while now, Chas dutifully standing outside and holding her bags for her. She did a once over of the store, not seeing anything she particularly wanted jump out at her, and walked out the door, "Hey!"

Chas looked up from where he had been in serious danger of falling asleep and nodded tiredly at Jade, "Can we go?" His voice had just the edge of a whine to it, and he was blinking his brown eyes in a decidedly puppy-dog fashion—Jade couldn't help but smile softly to herself.

"Yeah, I'm about done," She grabbed a couple of the bags from him, "I just need to stop a couple more places."

"Jade," Chas began reasonably, "John wears the same thing every single day. You don't need," he checked the bags he was holding, "Five pairs of jeans, sixteen t-shirts, and eight black tank tops."

She glanced over her shoulder reproachfully, "He gave us five _hundred_ dollars, Chas. Obviously, I was meant to spend it somewhere." She turned back to step on the escalator, muttering to herself, "Might as well spend his money, he's messed up my life enough in other areas."

Chas groaned and stepped onto the escalator behind her, "But what else do you _need_? You have everything! Everything a girl could possibly need or even _want_…" He noted the glare she threw at him, "Okay, well maybe not…but really, what else do you need?"

Jade ignored him, and continued walking ahead, chuckling to herself at his whining.

"Jade? Jade where are you going—Victoria's Secret? What do you need in Vic—" Chas paused as his teenage hormones kicked in, "On second thought, go ahead. I'll just wait out here. No, wait, maybe I should come with you—"

Jade turned to him, her eyes laughing, "Chas." He did his best puppy-dog expression, the one that even John couldn't resist—okay, John could resist it, but John Constantine was a fucking machine, Chas had decided—and pouted. She laughed and tossed her bags at him, "Stay."

* * *

"Where's Chas?" Angela asked John, struggling to keep up with his fast-paced strides.

He didn't look at her but replied, "With Jade. I took a cab here."

"Oh," she replied lamely, "Well, I have my Honda, do you want a ride?"

"Where?" John continued walking, not slowing his pace at all.

"Well," Angela gestured at the slip of paper in his hand, "To wherever Gabriel is sending you."

John glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, "You're not coming."

"John," Angela made an exasperated noise, "How do you expect to get there?"

"Cab." He replied noncommittally.

"Why didn't you tell me about a prophecy when I asked you last night?"

John drew in a sharp breath and stopped, turning to finally look at her. She could feel tension, irritation, and anger literally rolling off him in waves. Tentatively, she brought her eyes to his, and immediately wished he'd continued walking and ignoring her. His eyes were flashing with frustration, "Why didn't you tell me you were being pulled into Hell?"

Angela swallowed hard as his dark gaze swept over her frame once, and flicked away in disgust, "John, I—"

"Let's go," John cut her off abruptly—a niggling thought in the back of his mind telling him not to leave Angela alone had won out over his desire to keep her out of the entire situation, "Figueroa street."

Angela opened her mouth to further discuss the topic at hand, but one glance told her that John had officially closed it. Biting her lip, she nodded, fumbling for her keys.

* * *

"What'd you get?" Chas pestered Jade for about the fiftieth time since they'd started toward the exit, "Can I see?"

"No!" Jade laughed as she yanked the bags away from his prying eyes, though Chas noted, for the umpteenth time that day, that her laugh was—though convincing—reserved and didn't quite crack the guarded look in her dark eyes.

"Alright, alright, let's get going, then." Chas held a glass door open for Jade, "John probably needs the car."

Jade nodded, slipping on a pair of dark sunglasses as she stepped into the light. Chas stepped out after her, fiddling with the shopping bags as he closed the door behind him. Outside the mall it was bright, their only shelter the cement awning above the entrance. Mild gang members, mall staff, and irate husbands were scattered about the entrance, smoking. Jade gave a longing look toward a young worker as he lazily exhaled a cloud of smoke, while Chas coughed at the sudden influx of foreign molecules invading his lungs.

"Jade."

The dark-haired girl turned abruptly at the sound of her name, only to find it coming from the lips of a familiar black-haired boy, "Jack!"

Chas scowled at the other boy, who was leaning nonchalantly against a stone pillar, smoke filtering through his lips. Jade walked over and Chas watched, noting that she was giving Jack a genuine smile now. He caught her by the arm, "We should go."

Jade tossed him a defiant glare, "Just a second."

Chas didn't let go, "No, really, we should go."

Jade's dark eyes considered him for a moment, measuring his obvious conflict. Gently, she tugged her arm away from him, "Just a minute, Chas. John is resourceful. He doesn't need the car immediately."

Chas opened his mouth in protest, but clamped it shut as he looked over Jade's shoulder, at the dark-haired boy whose eyes were gloating mildly. He scowled again, but leaned against the wall near the door, setting a couple of the bags down and crossing his arms in what he knew was clearly a pouting gesture, but he didn't care. He watched through narrow eyes as Jade made her way over to the asshole—somewhere in that brief conversation with Jade, Chas had decided Jack was most definitely asshole-material—and sat next to him, taking a quick drag from his cigarette. Chas started, about to jump on her for smoking again, but she held up her hand and handed the cig back to Jack, a gesture of reluctant defeat. Jack whispered something in her ear and Jade laughed—genuinely, again—and gave him a look that made Chas want to throw up. Chas wasn't entirely sure why the way Jade was looking at Jack wanted to make him throw up, so he decided to ponder that for a while.

"Chas?" Chas blinked up at the sudden calling of his name. He'd finally realized why he disliked Jack, and the way Jade was acting around Jack. Because Jack didn't know her—not that Chas did, but he was fairly sure he knew more of her than she'd ever let anyone know in a long time—and because the only reason Jade was acting that way around Jack was because she was physically attracted to him. Chas still wasn't entirely sure why that bothered him, he just knew it _did_.

"Yeah?"

Jade was standing in front of him, hands on her hips and shopping bags looped around her wrists. A secret smile played across her features, "Are we…going?" She prodded him verbally.

"Oh…uh, yeah. Yeah, let's go." Chas led the way, throwing a last warning glance over Jade's head at Jack, who raised a lazy arm in salute. Chas hurried across the parking lot.

* * *

"Take the right."

Angela's eyes widened in surprise, it had been the first thing Constantine had said to her since they'd gotten into her black SUV. She could still feel tension radiating from his lean frame, so she nodded, flicking the turn signal. They drove in silence, passing average-looking houses, all red brick and varied trim, "3002," John stated, and Angela drew the car to a stop, in front of green-trimmed house.

"John, I," Angela started, unsure of what to say, "I just wanted—"

John's lips cut her off roughly, and as she leaned into the kiss, he pulled back, "Stay in the car." His voice was hard, his tone final, and Angela opened her mouth to object anyway.

"John, I—"

He cut her off with a glare, and she clamped her mouth shut. Heaving a deep sigh, she threw her arms across her chest dramatically, sinking down into her seat. She looked like a pouting child, but she didn't care. John snorted in amusement, and climbed out of the car, trotting up the steps of the green porch and knocking rapidly on the screen door.

* * *

"So, did you have a nice talk with your little boyfriend?" Chas asked, not caring that he sounded bitter and sarcastic—not unlike his role model.

"He's not my boyfriend." Chas glanced over at Jade, and was infuriated to see color rising to her cheeks, "Just met him, actually."

"Right." Chas let out a breath, wondering what the hell had happened to the cold, unimpressed, haughty Jade Constantine in the past fifteen minutes—she was blushing and acting like a typical teenage girl, all you had to do was throw some hunky boy in her path. _Disgusting_, Chas thought to himself, _She__ should really—_

"CHAS! WATCH THE _ROAD!"_ Jade was yelling, her hand gripping his arm. Chas looked up, swerving out of the way just in time to miss a little girl lying in the middle of the road.

"_Jesus_," he hissed, looking over at the girl, "What the fuck…?"

Jade was already out of the car, running toward the little girl. A woman was coming out of the house they were stopped in front of—they were on a back road, a neighborhood—and she looked the part of a mother, hair flying about and a tattered apron tied messily around elastic-waist jeans and a large t-shirt. She was wiping her hands on her apron, hurrying down the stone steps, noticing the little girl, screaming for her to get up.

Jade had stopped, halfway to the child, eyes frozen wide in shock. The mother had also stopped—in fact, it seemed as though time had stopped, and Chas looked around for some divine being responsible—before realizing that it wasn't Satan, just the horror of the scene that had frozen the world.

Then, the mother let out a scream. An endless, unearthly wail; her hand flying to her messy hair, blue eyes unable to turn from the scene, "_WHAT! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BABY?"_

_

* * *

_

A tired-looking woman opened the door. She was dark, possibly African. Older than John, perhaps mid-forties. Wearing a simple white linen pantsuit. She looked elegant. And tired.

John nodded deeply, "Ms…Abatyan?" He muttered, the slip of paper in his hand fluttering with nerves and the breeze.

She regarded him silently, so he continued, "A…friend referred me to you. I have a…problem, and I was told that perhaps you could help?" He paused, rolling words around in his mind, "I'd…very much appreciate it. My name is Constantine. John Constantine."

She continued to look at him appraisingly, and he shifted his tall frame awkwardly under her scrutiny. A light flared in her brown eyes, and one corner of her mouth tilted upward, "Isn't your next line, '_asshole'_?" She turned and walked back into the house, kicking the door gently behind her.

John stared a moment at the oak door in front of him, as it slowly glided shut. A soft click, and he was locked out.

After a couple of minutes, he raised his hand again, and knocked, "Ms. Abatyan? Please, I need to ask you some questions! Ugh!" John gave the door a mighty thump and leaned his head against the doorframe, trying to figure out what he was going to do.

The door slid open again, not at all cautiously. Adila smoothed back her black hair and looked past the young man before her, "Miss Dodson is not safe." She walked away, this time leaving the door open behind her. John glanced back at the car, where Angela was still pouting. He looked toward the house, and then back at the car again.

"Fuck," he muttered, before cantering back to the SUV, "Angela, come on."

She threw him a defiant glare, "You _said_ to stay in the car. Look. I'm staying in the car."

"Since when do you do what I tell you?"

Her glare intensified, but she unbuckled her seatbelt, "Fine."

* * *

Wow, I'm really sorry this is so late…I've been sort of busy, and it's still un-beta'd! So sorry, but thanks for sticking by me! Anyway, I, unfortunately, cannot offer you guys the same deal, as I'm not…exactly done w/part XVI…however, reviews seriously do motivate me, and I will try to get it up within the week, if possible. You guys are all awesome for sticking by me, especially those who reviewed the last chapter**: the angel's halo**, Arin Ross, **MrSmithConstantine101**, MrsShiaLabeouf, **morph**, angie232, **Evelyn Valerious**, fanficgeek, **Gladys Bagg**, saoirse**, Silverbloodrain**, sumbum176

Jake


	16. XVI: Misconception

Part XVI: Misconception

Angela felt like a dog trotting up the brick drive behind John. He reached the door first, and stepped aside to hold it for her, and she felt a feminist comment rise in her throat. It quickly died, however, as she took in his tense rigidity—more rigid than even the usual for John Constantine. She did, however, regard him with a dark glance as she stepped over the threshold and into the house. Adila Abatyan was standing a couple feet in front of them and smiling in a faux-pleasant manner.

"Miss Dodson," Adila greeted, "Mr. Constantine. Both of you, please, sit."

Angela smiled tentatively and took a prim seat on the edge of a white-wicker loveseat in the parlor. John stayed standing. Adila smiled, and sat down across from Angela.

"Now. What are these questions you have for me?"

-

"Oh, _god_," Jade breathed as she looked at the little girl, whose pale eyes were wide with shock, and whose wisp of blonde hair was matted in a sickening red liquid, "Oh…oh…god..." The child lay splayed on the concrete, arms straight out on either side, feet hooked together at the ankles. Deep gashes were strewn across her frail body—five, in all, Jade noted curiously—and blood welled in them—from her wrists, her ankles, and her left side. The mother still screamed--an endless moan of the type Jade was eerily sure she'd heard somewhere else.

"What…what _is_ this?" Jade whispered to nobody, "Why does this look so…_familiar_?"

"The crucifixion." Chas answered Jade softly, "Christ on the cross…the marks of the nail and spear included."

Jade looked as though she was about to faint, and Chas reached out an arm to support her. She turned to him suddenly, her hand on her necklace and her dark eyes flashing.

"It's wrong." She whispered, fingering her amulet, "It's wrong."

Chas was confused, "Yes…it is wrong. We should go."

"No!" Her tone was fervent, "The crucifixion…it's wrong…this is—this is wrong."

Chas nodded, still confused, "Let's go."

The mother's blue eyes flashed an icy glare. She stopped screaming to let out a huge gasping sob, and turned to the two teenagers with the soft calm of someone who has nothing left to live for.

"_You did this!_" Her voice was low and threatening. Chas shook his head and tried to lead Jade back to the car.

_"God—" _The mother stopped, and let out a strangled, choking sound, "_Go—you! You did this!"_

Chas gave the mother a pitying look, but continued to back away, pushing Jade gently into the taxi. The mother leapt, her fingers curled into claws scraping against the window.

_I need to find John_. Was the only thought fluttering through Chas's mind, _once we find John, everything will be fine._ He gunned the engine and put the car into a twirling reverse, driving fast, and reckless, and most importantly, _away_.

-

"Prophecy of Laodicea." John spit out, unable to deal with pleasantries. Adila raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of his younger sister, and poured a cup of tea for Angela.

"And why, my dear Mr. Constantine, would such a prophecy interest you?" She whispered, handing him his own cup of tea.

"What do you know about it?" John answered the question with one of his own, and set the tea down carelessly on an end table next to him.

Adila stirred a cube of sugar into her own tea, and, after a pregnant pause, pursed her lips and spoke, "Do you know the Bible, Mr. Constantine?"

"Of course I know the Bible."

"Not, do you know _of_ the Bible, but do you _know_ the Bible?"

John paused to think about this, before replying, "Enough."

"Laodicea was a church. The last Church, as mentioned in Revelations." Adila sipped her tea, and waited for him to continue.

"Fascinating," John muttered, "Could you, by any chance, tell me about this prophecy?"

"It is the last prophecy."

John watched as Angela took a tentative sip of her tea, and then he sighed. Obviously, the only way to get anywhere with this woman was to ask her direct questions.

"What does this prophecy _entail_?"

Adila regarded him silently.

"Is it about _me?"_

This time, she spoke.

"Don't be so arrogant as to assume."

"Do you know what the prophecy means?"

"Yes."

"How?"

A pause.

"I am the prophet."

-

Chas continued to repeat the mantra in his head: _Find John, everything will be fine_.

Jade had the window halfway down and was running her hand through her dark hair, and looking troubled. Chas sighed, and slowed the car slightly.

"Listen, Jade, I know what that was."

"It was wrong."

"Yes, I know it was wrong, but—"

"No! Don't you _see_? It wasn't the crucifixion; it was…a mirror image of it. Jesus' _right_ side was pierced, not his left! It was _wrong!_"

Chas fell silent.

"Shit."

-

John was getting frustrated.

"Does the prophecy _involve_ me?"

"Yes."

"Shit."

Adila sipped her tea and chuckled lightly, "No."

"What?"

"No."

John paused, and an obscure thought flickered through his mind. A bolt of realization passed through him, and he raised his gaze to Adila's hooded eyes.

"Is the prophecy _in effect?_"

Adila gave him a genuine smile this time, and set her tea on the counter.

"No."

John nodded, "Angela, we're leaving. We need to find Chas and Jade."

Angela narrowed her eyes at him, "Wait…if this prophecy isn't in effect…"

Adila busied herself with arranging the flowers in the vase in the center of the coffee table.

Angela's eyes narrowed further, and she turned on the older woman, "There is a prophecy in effect, though, isn't there?"

Adila's face remained impassive, but she spoke.

"John Constantine, I cannot help you. You have the truth. Check the scrolls. Guard the amulet. And remember that Lucifer is not one to be scorned lightly."

With that, she nodded gently at the door.

-

Wow…sorry, guys. I've been really busy in the past couple weeks, especially with this crazy job I took on. Let's just say it involved me waking up at five am…and that was basically enough for it to be deemed crazy. Sorry this chapter was kind of short, it's a small filler…can anyone guess what's going on? Trust me; it will all make sense in the end. I'm going to try to get the next chapter up ASAP, but I can't make any promises, sorryL. However, your reviews were awesome, and they completely inspired me. Please review again!

Special thanks to: Shana, Crystal Music, mimifoxlove, fanficgeek, Vampirehelsing, Erin, aliasbristow87, Angelnanoo, Evelyn Valerious, Chiara, xiaouxijiang, The Violet Prisoner, MrsShiaLabeouf, morph, Nareda

Thank you all very much,

Jake


	17. XVII: Scientia Est Potentia

Part XVII: Scientia Est Potentia

Chas pulled the taxi into a curling halt in front of John's apartment, and leaned heavily against the steering wheel. Jade sat in silence next to him.

_Be home, John. Be the John Constantine without a life that you always are, be here, _Chas thought to himself, _Be here. We need you._

With a heavy sigh, he turned the key in the ignition and glanced at Jade. Her eyes were unfocused, and she seemed to be staring at someone, or something. Chas squinted against the glare of the late afternoon sun, through the windshield. A scattering of people strolled the sidewalks, but he could see nothing remarkable. Jade blinked twice, and then turned back to him.

"Well? Are we going in?"

Chas looked at her, slightly startled, "Yeah, uh, yeah." He opened his door and hopped out of the cab. Jade followed suit.

-

Angela was driving the weary road to the Twenty Lanes' Bowling establishment as John sat in the passenger seat staring warily at a small, leather-bound journal. He was turning it over and over in his hands, and—she could tell—testing it with his psychic force for enchantments, spells, and curses. Despite finding none of these, he placed it gingerly on the dashboard, leaning back in his seat and staring it down. Angela glanced over at him and sighed in slight exasperation.

"John, why don't you just open it?"

He blinked at her, snapping from his reverie, "Huh? Oh…I...yeah." John reached over and picked up the journal, untying the leather thong wrapped around it and flipping the book open. He showed the tattered pages to her—well, turned the open book toward her, anyway—and muttered, "It's in Latin. I don't read Latin."

Angela looked a little shocked, and John quickly amended, "Well, not very well, anyway." He paused, focusing on nothingness out the passenger window, "Always had Beeman for that."

Angela bit her lip uncomfortably, wondering whether or not she should say something regarding his friend's death.

"John, I…I'm sorry."

He turned to her and regarded her coolly before nodding curtly, "Chas'll be able to read it."

-

"Great, John. Where the hell are ya?" Chas muttered to himself, tossing his keys on the counter and dumping his share of Jade's shopping bags next to the table. Jade sat hers down next to them, and turned to Chas, a question in her eyes. He shrugged nervously.

"I guess…we should wait here. Something's…"

A look from Jade prompted him to go on, "…out there." Chas finished lamely. "I mean, something's going on and…well, John will know what to do." He finished the sentence with utter confidence—he had complete faith in his mentor.

"Well…while we're waiting for him, let's look for some information on this—" Jade faltered, still not over the shock, "—what happened. Does John have a computer?"

A snort was all she got as an answer from Chas, who was already on his knees in front of a cabinet under the sink, rooting through piles of dog-eared, leather-bound books. He tossed one out at her and Jade barely caught it before it hit her in the knees. She shrugged to herself and dusted off the hardcover of the book before setting it on the counter and leaning over it to decipher the tiny print.

"Hmmm…" Jade muttered to herself, "_Ab aeterno ad majorem Dei—_Chas?"

Chas, who was now standing, bent over his own book, across from her looked up, a curly bang falling into his eyes, "Hmm?"

"This is…in Latin."

"Yeah." Satisfied that he had successfully answered her query, Chas resumed his own reading.

"I don't read Latin, Chas."

Another glance up at her, and the same bang falling into his eyes, "Uh-huh…oh! Oh, yeah. I forgot, sorry…uh…well, here, I can give you a quick lesson, see, the verbs in Latin come after—"

"Chas!" Jade held up a hand and he stopped mid-sentence, "Chas, I don't need a lesson in Latin. I just…is there something else I can read?"

Chas looked puzzled, and then he ducked back down under the sink, reappearing shortly with a worn, leather-bound book. He handed it to Jade, "This is mostly English. Look for…rakshasa."

Jade nodded, and looked down at the book he'd given her. Silver inlay depicted a crude drawing of a profoundly evil creature against the cracked leather. She gulped softly, feeling the sheer power of the texts around her as she gazed on the simple demon drawing. She opened it to the first page, a prologue of sorts.

_It is often believed that demons are of a simple race—one that derives its pleasure and sustenance from death and destruction, one that has no society, culture, or civilized organization. In a way, this is true. In another way, this is also the most dangerous assumption one can make. Demons, while not as earthly complex as humans—no supernatural being is as _earthly_ complex, after all—are governed by rules and societal structure just as we are. Different, yet still governed—and to any involved in the occult, knowledge of these regulations and restrictions can be the only advantage one will ever have over the inevitably more powerful._

Footsteps on the stairs startled Jade, and she glanced up at Chas, who had yet to return to his book and was gazing intently at her. Instinctively, Jade reached across the counter and brushed the lock of hair back from his eyes, pausing slightly. Chas smirked at her, his gaze smoldering.

"CHAS!" John roared as he entered the apartment.

Jade pulled her hand back quickly and both jumped as if they'd been burned. Chas turned to face John, who had just come flying into the room as though something were attacking him, "I'm right here, John."

John looked slightly flustered, and swung his gaze toward Chas's voice, "Here," he tossed the journal at Chas who caught it as it bounced off his chest, "I need you to tell me what that says about a prophecy, any prophecy."

Chas blinked down at the journal for a second, a little disoriented, "Why couldn't you—oh. Is it Latin? Yeah, sure."

"John—today—there was a…a girl…oh god, there was a girl and—" Jade couldn't figure out how to put to words what they'd seen. She glanced at Chas, who seemingly had forgotten all about the earlier incident—and she realized that he'd taken what he'd said earlier very seriously—everything was fine, now that John Constantine was here. She could see the merit of that viewpoint—she had to admit that John brought a certain sense of security with him, but she was still shaken by what she'd seen

In Chas's point of view, not only was Constantine here, but he was asking for Chas's help. Also, when you'd been around Constantine for as long as he had, you tended to become slightly immune.

John rubbed his temples wearily, "Was it…crucifixion?"

Jade nodded, her eyes wide, "But it wasn't…well it was—"

"Sit down," John motioned to the chairs, "I need to figure out what this journal says, and then I'll explain everything."

Jade looked like she still wanted to say something, but she sat down anyway, pulling out a chair for the already engrossed Chas.

-

Approximately three hours later, it was dark outside. The table was littered with cards and toppled chess pieces, and John, Jade, and Angela were getting slightly impatient with Chas's progress. Chas was oblivious to the world, drowning in the beautiful dead language and making occasional notes on an old Subway napkin.

It was approximately seventeen minutes after this that Chas turned to three expectant faces and nodded grimly.

"Well?" John asked, impatiently, "And it says?"

Chas pushed the one-hundredth and sixty-eighth page under John's nose, "This is what you're looking for."

John nodded expectantly. Chas shoved his napkin over, next to the book, "Here's what it says."

"_When the fires have been breached by the son of God for the second—_wait a minute, this is the Prophecy of Laodi—" John was cut off by Chas's voice.

"—cea, yeah, I know." Chas muttered, "It looks like it's just as bad as I thought it was."

"But—" Angela interrupted, "Adila said that—"

"—it wasn't in effect." John finished, "So how does that work?"

Chas shrugged, "This is the only part that mentions the rakshasa, which we know by now are in the world. But…there is a forked prophecy before this; did your Adila know about that?"

"I'm going to guess, probably, yes," John said, "What's the fork?"

"It involves the oath of neutrality…and…Mammon." Chas was flipping back pages, "And…the Spear. I'm going to guess we already went through this." He paused, "Hey! It even mentions me _dying."_

John coughed and kicked Chas, who looked up to meet the startled eyes of Jade.

"_Ohmygod…_" she whispered, "_Ohmygod I knew you were an—_"

John coughed again and nodded, "One second, Jade, and we'll explain this all to you. Chas, the fork, we took the one that leads to Laodicea?"

Chas nodded.

"And rakshasa mean Laodicea."

Chas nodded again.

"Rakshasa?" Angela turned accusing eyes at Constantine, "What are the rakshasa?"

John ignored her, "And Laodicea means…bad things?"

Chas nodded once more.

"Bad things like, the end of the world."

More nodding.

"Like the book of _Revelations_, the end of the world."

Chas paused, "More like the book of _Chemosh_, but yes."

There was an unsteady silence as the group digested this.

Angela spoke, "_Chemosh _is…"

"The last book in the bible—" John began.

"—In Hell," Angela finished, "Of course."

"There's a little more to it," Chas muttered, "The Laodicea prophecy is only brought into effect by the personal vendetta of Lucifer himself…which, um…which means."

John stared at Chas.

"What the fuck…?"

Chas pushed the journal toward John, who struggled through the Latin sentences, "Fuck."

"Which means—" Chas began again, "That the prophecy—the end of the world, all this is—"

"My. Fault." John finished. "Oh, God." His head fell into his hands, and Jade stood up, her chair clattering loudly as it skidded across the wooden floor.

"Somebody…needs to explain…what the…_fuck_…is going on."

-

Ah…I'm sorry, it's getting a little confusing, isn't it? I hope that, between this chapter and the next two, most questions about this whole prophecy deal are cleared up.

Thanks to EVERYONE who has even _glanced_ at this story, and especially to my reviewers; the angel's halo, LillyAngel, Erin, fanficgeek, GladysBagg, Trent, Angelnanoo, MrsShiaLabeouf, morph, jdoodles, Evelyn Valerious, Crystal Music, Kyoko Kasshu Minamino, Vampirehelsing

Trent—About Jade's name: It was sort of an accident/sort of not—Jade was always her name, and then on a whim I decided to give her a middle name. I happened to be reading my friend Sarea's lj at the time, and so I just picked that—and I didn't even notice the significance until later. But yes, I do know Jade and Sarea Okelani, so well that I seem to incorporate them into my story without even fully realizing it! Kudos to you for picking that up, though!

Thanks again, everyone! Review!

Jake


	18. XVIII: Drama

Part XVIII: Drama

"Oh…god." Jade whispered. Chas nodded, as if for effect. It had taken the better part of the hour to explain to Jade—as well as details to Angela—what, exactly, was going on in this mostly typical day of John Constantine and Chas Kramer—from angels to rakshasa to John's ability to transcend the planes and travel to Hell.

"I need to…step outside." Jade muttered, standing up from the table and practically running out the door. Once outside, she leaned against the doorframe, gazing above at the symbols carved into the walls and ceiling. She'd known John was an exorcist—but…this. This was too much. Exorcism, voodoo, angels and demons were on the borderline of reality—but they stayed on one distinctive side, as far as she was concerned. However, after today—

No. They didn't exist…and yet—no. _Demons don't exist_, her brain taunted her—her mother had carved this mantra into her brain from the earliest age—_Demons. Do not. Exist. Period._

But then, how could she explain what she'd witnessed? And not just in the past week, but through the fabric of her _entire life?_ The dreams…the visions…the fleeting views of life on the other planes. The desires so strong, so deep, to take her life—slit her wrists, overdose on those pristinely white tablets—and the tiny voice in the back of her brain that gnawed, warned her that she didn't need to die to get her share of Hell.

"Jade?"

His voice was barely a whisper, behind her on the darkened street—when had she made her way down the stairs and out onto the street, she wondered—but it startled her still, and she briefly wondered when he'd become so ubiquitous.

"Jade—are you alright?"

She nodded, mutely, both unaware and uncaring of the tears falling down her cheeks, "Yeah…yeah, I'm fine."

He nodded, and tentatively reached out to her, putting one hand gently on her shoulder, "I…you sure?"

She gulped, and looked away, "Yeah." She blinked tears away with her lashes, and he gingerly wrapped one arm around her, pulling her into his embrace. She stood rigid for a moment, before hesitantly slipping her arms around his waist and hugging him back.

-

Chas had gone after her. He wasn't sure what he was going to say—"Hiya, Jade, I'm an angel, and yeah, I died a couple months ago, but I like you, and I think you like me—so can we still be friends?" He'd hurried out onto the dark street after her, where she was crying. And it wasn't until then, when he saw her eyes glistening with tears in a mix of moon-and-streetlight—that he realized, he didn't have to say anything at all.

-

"Rakshasa? Rak_shasa!"_ Angela was furious. "You didn't think, it never—it never crossed your _mind_—to tell me about these—things!"

John winced—or would have, were John Constantine the type to wince—at her sharp tone, "Look, Angela. These _things_ are dangerous, and the less people that know about them, the better. Not only would it cause unnecessary panic, but they leave a psychic field around their victims. You—especially with your power—can't stay in them for very long or you'll go insane. It's _dangerous._"

"Dangerous? They're _dangerous._ No shit, Sherlock." Angela stomped over to where John was standing in his supremely casual and uncaring manner and poked him in the chest, "Did it ever, ever, _ever_ cross your mind that _perhaps_, just _perhaps,_ I—Detective Angela Dodson, who happens to be in _homicide_—might be involved in these cases? These deaths? That are apparently the responsibility of the _rakshasa? _That maybe it would be a good idea to _warn_ me about things like the psychic field? Hmm?" She punctuated each question with a painful poke.

John blinked at her and then realized what she was saying.

"Oh."

-

"How're you doing?" He asked, gently. Jade sniffled, and looked up at him.

"Why…why are you out here?" She wondered, _why did he come after me?_

He shrugged, "You…looked like you needed a friend."

She gazed up at him, regarding him silently for a moment, "Yeah…I guess I did. Thanks."

"No problem."

-

"Oh?" Angela felt her anger rising further—if that was possible, "John, you _need_ to fill me in, here. You can't just…live and…go around like you—like you don't have anyone but yourself to think about!"

John gazed at her with a heady, arrogant stare, one that gave him the hardened look of a purely independent, self-sufficient cynic. She threw her hands up in exasperation.

"What about Jade? What about Chas? John, as much as I know you hate to admit it, you are _not alone_ _anymore_. I don't think you ever were. People care, and you can't just leave them in the dark. That's what gets them _killed_."

A flash of dark emotion flew through John's eyes and Angela put a hand to her lips, "Oh god, John, I'm sorry."

-

Chas watched Jade as she wiped the tears from her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ears. She looked…better.

Chas turned and walked back into the bowling alley. Jade would follow eventually.

-

"No, you're right."

John's voice was deadened, hard and bitter. Angela visibly winced at its tone. She watched him duck into the cage surrounding his bed and sit down, looking as defeated as John Constantine could ever look. When he spoke again, it wasn't to her; it was to the room, the world, the air.

"It's my _fucking _fault that the prophecy is in effect, it's my _fucking _fault that everyone I ever got close to is dead, and it's my _fucking fault_ that the world is going to end." He let out a deep breath with a disturbingly mortal quality about it. Angela didn't know what to say. So she said the first thing that came to mind.

"I love you."

-

Jade watched him leave, watched him turn his back to her and walk away.

"Thanks," she whispered softly, "Thank you, Jack."

-

Constantine slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers, his gaze raw and unwavering. Brusquely, he nodded—just a short tip of his head.

She bit her lip and nodded back. That was all the confirmation she needed.

-

A/N: OMG guys, I'm so sorry I've been basically gone for the past month or so…and I'm sorry to say that my supposed MIA state is going to probably continue for a little while. Thank you so much for standing by and reviewing, and I hope you haven't abandoned this story, because I definitely haven't! Anyway, if anyone's curious, not only did I have a very…er…dramatic summer, I'm also in Italy right now about to start college…AH STRESS! But I will definitely try to get the next chapter up sooner, though I can't promise anything.

Much thanks to: Gladys Bagg, Evelyn Valerious, morph, crystal music, Vampirehelsing, Erin, Kyoko Kasshu Minamino, the angel's halo, angie232, Red Room Flare, AngelusTheAngelicDemon, mimifoxlove, Glowstick Love, lauren, TheElfGirl, Karaoke Risa, Philyra, Y.Seta, Shana, ….., Angelnanoo, Lady Emerald Star, mrsshialabeouf, xAlone She Crys, Osage, saiyuki123

Love,

Jake


	19. XIX: Forked

Part XIX: Forked

_"Incubus?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"The plan?"_

_"Perfect."_

-

Chas was waiting by the door when Jade returned. She stalked up to him and gazed upward into his hazel-brown eyes. He gazed right back down at her.

"Where were you?" Chas murmured, not breaking eye contact.

"I needed some fresh air." Jade muttered defiantly, "Why?"

"I just wanted to check on you…make sure you were okay? I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," Chas injected a fair amount of contrition into his words.

Jade nodded, "I'm fine…now."

Chas's jaw clenched at the 'now' part of her sentence, "Right. Well. It's almost four. You should get some sleep."

"What, the divine don't sleep?"

Chas's jaw clenched again, "I was just looking out—"

Jade sighed, "I know." She paused, "I'm okay, Chas. It's okay. Everything. Is okay."

"Right."

-

_Sulfur._

_Agony. Death. Worse than death—eternal death._

Jade woke suddenly, gasping for air and clutching at the thin blanket that covered her. It slipped against her fingers and she looked down briefly. It was no longer a blanket but a scrap—a torn scrap of what looked like skin. Human skin. Jade shrieked and jumped off the couch, dropping it immediately. Despite the suffocating heat, she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. A distant scream echoed her earlier shriek and her hair whipped about in an invisible wind. The apartment was decrepit, and she looked around. Even without the earlier explanation of everything that was going on, Jade knew where she was.

Hell.

-

_God, what is that smell?_ Angela sat up in bed, wrinkling her nose. She felt the bed beside her. John was gone, but she supposed that wasn't unexpected. She blinked, opening her eyes wearily, and looked around.

The first thing she noticed was that everything was tinted rusty.

The second thing she noticed was that Jade was standing in the room with her.

-

Jade blinked at the sound of her name. She turned toward where John's bed would've been, had it still been there, and saw Angela, standing in an oversized button-down shirt and nothing else.

"Angela?" She whispered, both wanting and not wanting to see her standing there. Angela being there meant she wasn't alone…but it also meant that this wasn't a dream.

"Jade!" Angela had to raise her voice to be heard over the agonizing screams and moans and the ungodly gale that was whipping through the apartment, "Jade, are you alright?"

Jade nodded, "Yeah…yes. I think so."

Angela looked relieved as she made her way toward the teenager, "Good, stay there, I'm just going to—"

She was cut off by a scream that was no longer distant, "I'm going to come over there." Angela avoided the pitfalls that fell to the lower depths of the apartment as she made her way to where Jade was standing. She placed both hands on the teenagers shoulders and pulled her closer, "You're okay…okay. I'm going to get us out of here…I…I'm not sure how John did it, but…" Angela trailed off when Jade clutched her forearms in panic, "What? What is it?"

Jade shook her head, her eyes glazing over. Her amulet burned against her skin, an icy cold burn, and she reached up to claw at it, desperate to keep it away from her flesh. She vaguely noticed Angela doing the same thing. As soon as her fingertips touched the amulet, a bolt of icy cold lightning flashed through her, and she felt a connection—no, _the_ connection with the other amulets. In her mind, she was connected with the wearers of her sister amulets, and in her mind, she could hear their thoughts and words.

_John said—_

The warm golden voice was Angela, Jade knew, so she blocked it out. The other voice, a deeper platinum voice was not—and it was talking to another. Jade clutched the amulet and listened quietly.

_Incubus?_

_Yes?_

_The plan?_

_Perfect._

_The girl?_

_No problem. She's so very—_

_Shh__! The amulet!_

_The amulet?_

_You fool! The connection—_

As abruptly as the icy bolt had run through her, it stopped. The voices stopped, and the amulet went back to being a cool charm against her skin, and the apartment went back to being a normal apartment on Earth, not in Hell.

Both women woke, clutching the trinity amulet around their necks, with a start.

But Angela, more versed and aware of her psychic abilities, made the seamless transition from plane to plane, while Jade, in the process of transition, unwittingly received the leakage of some prophetic sewage.

_TrinityHellDyingSonElasticityMetamorphoDeathAngelSaviorRevelationLuciferEndQuixoticLoveFinishInHellInHELLDyingDeadRevelations?NoNONotTheProphecyMidnightMidniteMidnight?Midnite.DyingDyingKillKill?KillYourself.No.No?NoQuestions.No._ Jade woke with a scream.

-

"ADILA!" Constantine pounded on the door twice, and then turned the knob. It was open, so he stormed in. Angela followed, briskly and professionally, closing the door behind her.

"ADILA!" Constantine thundered through the house. Angela put one hand on his arm.

"John, we should really—"

"Yes, Mr. Constantine?" Adila poked her head out from the kitchen and gave him a—tight, but friendly—smile, "Please, come in."

"The prophecy is in effect!" Constantine ground out, across the plate of cookies she was holding out invitingly.

"Excuse me?" Adila set the platter down and wiped her hands on her apron.

"It is in effect. I thought you were supposed to know this stuff!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Constantine, but you are mistaken. The prophecy is not in effect, it couldn't possibly be."

"Well, I wouldn't make any life-or-death bets on that. Because I think you're mistaken."

"How dare you presume to tell me what—"

John cut her off, a sudden realization hitting him. He mentally slapped himself for not seeing it earlier, but continued on, "It's…it's the result of a fork. That's why you don't think it's in effect, because you don't think the forked prophecy has come to pass!"

Adila sniffed, "Of course it hasn't come to pass, whatever gave you such a ridiculous idea—"

John barged on—he was on a roll, now, "Because you don't keep in contact with Midnite—" As he said the name, a light fixture on the wall shattered. Unfazed by this display of psychic power, John continued, "Midnite helped me in the undoing of Mammon—he sacrificed his oath to save us from a thousand years of Hell on earth and—" Another light fixture shattered and John stopped, slightly annoyed.

Adila was breathing heavily and glaring at him, "You don't mean to tell me that—that he—he—!"

John nodded, confused. Adila swore, loudly, and untied her apron.

"We need to pay a visit to your dear friend, the witchdoctor."

-

A/N: Wow…another chapter…I'm pretty impressed with myself, considering it's MIDTERMS! CRAP! College midterms…not exactly hard, but the idea of it freaks me out…anyway, thanks for sticking by me, I love you guys, and I'll try to get the next chapter up asap.

Props to: Lady Hawke, AngelusTheAngelicDemon, Divamercury, Erin, AnimeGurlie, Ian Wolf, animerockstar, Lady Emerald Star, MrsShiaLabeouf, Osage, samurai-lapin, Karaoke Risa, Moonbeam, Crystal Music, Shana, TheElfGirl, Evelyn Valerious, Silverbloodrain, Kyoko Kasshu Minamino, Rea Josette, Gladys Bagg, Vampirehelsing, morph

Love,

Jake

Thank you morph for noticing the italicism mistake--I didn't check the document after uploading


	20. XX: Blood

Part XX: Blood

-

Adila raged through the club, light fixtures shattering as she went. She came to a seething halt outside the plush door, and whipped her arm to the side. The door swung open with such force that the impassive Midnite, who sat quietly within the chamber, mixing a drink, jumped—slightly, but enough to tip the silver flask outside of the confines of the smoking drink. He swore under his breath as drops of whiskey drank themselves into the silk table coverings.

A woman he had not seen for over twenty years stood before him, the rage within her dark eyes unmistakable. Seconds later, John Constantine and Angela Dodson came rushing into the room, halting at the tension that cracked through the air. Adila shoved her arm before his face, her sleeve pulled up to her forearm to reveal the twisting stain of a tattoo that curled from the base of her thumb around her wrist and up her forearm. Words from a language that did not originate on earth marked the design, betraying a succinct phrase: "By all that exists, I serve the Balance."

Adila shouted as glass exploded, "Have you forgotten your oath!"

Midnite glared at her, the intensity of his gaze the only part of his face that changed. The rest remained calm, but he sneered as he leaned toward her, "I, too, bear the Mark, Adila. Of course not," he spat.

She flung her arm to the side, a long finger pointing at John's chest, "Then what, might I ask, is _he_ doing here?"

Midnite leaned back against the plush upholstery of his club, "I assume he came with you. Why don't you enlighten me."

Adila fumed, but continued to speak, "_HE_ is the one of Laodicea! The fork has come to pass! My only question was how, and _he_ answered it for me." Her entire body trembled with fury, "_You betrayed the balance._"

Angela watched the exchange quietly. Adila was barely controlling herself, while Midnite remained, for the most part, calm and impassive.

"No, Adila, I did not. If that was all you had to say, you may leave." Midnite took a generous sip of his drink and gazed steadily at her.

"You helped him in the fight against Mammon."

Midnite's eyes flashed darkly, "Yes. But I did not betray the balance, it was a personal vendetta. I was merely restoring balance by giving John an advantage."

"Do you _ever_ read the prophecies, you foolish man! As an agent of the balance you are not to 'restore' anything! You are not to decide what is balance and what is not, you are _only_ to maintain it!"

Midnite lowered his eyes to the smoking drink as he swirled it around in its cup, "I am an agent, too, Adila. I know what I am to do and not do."

Adila thrust a slip of paper at him, "Read it."

Midnite allowed his eyes to skim languidly over the paper before looking up at her, "Child's play. Where is it from."

"Chemosh."

The only perceptible change in Midnite's expression was a slight raise of his eyebrows, "I see."

"The verse before Laodicea."

"Yes, I understand how you think this might be a complication."

"How I _think_? Are you _insane_? He's the walking armageddon!"

"No, my dear Adila, you are forgetting the entire Laodicea."

"Do not ever say my name as though we are on any type of 'terms'," Adila spat, "What could I _possibly_ be forgetting."

"Unity in blood."

"But he has no—"

"Yes, he does."

"He does?"

"Yes, and as long as she is here, Lucifer has no grasp."

Adila felt no relief from this statement, "Underestimation is the worst of sins, you, Midnite, of all, should know this."

Midnite sighed, "You are correct. But I predict it gives us enough time to find our way out of this one. Prophecies are never without an escape hatch. And _you_, Adila, of all, should know that."

Her anger was simmering, but he had awakened a deeper emotion within her. One that had been long-dormant since her twenty years of not speaking to, or about, him: Hatred.

"Yes. I do."

-

_She awoke in a cold sweat. She'd been having another one of her dreams—one that seemed so real she knew it would come to pass. She sometimes had dreams like this—slightly prophetic was what she'd call them, and they always came to pass. But not this one—this time, she would find a way out. _

_It was only later that day when the signs began to build themselves upon one another, slowly, like molasses spreading thickly from the overturned jar, and her 'premonition' sickness began. She was sitting quietly on the tattered couch in the living room when she felt the exact time. In twenty minutes, she knew it would pass. In twenty minutes, she knew what would happen. _

_She was going to die. _

_Ten minutes before the time of her death, she pulled a .45 colt from the cupboard. She pushed the couch in front of the door, and she stood with her gun trained at the window that overlooked the dusty South African streets. Anyone entering the door would pass by the spotty glass, and she would take them out. She knew the first man would kill her—so she would kill him first. She was ready. She was ready to fight the prophecy. _

_Not five minutes later, the first man passed by the window. Her hand was steady, but the bullet ricocheted off the pane, slanting away from her target. She shot five more times. She missed, as the soldiers knocked the flimsy door in with the butts of their rifles. Her gun-wielding hand dropped to her side as she closed her eyes, letting the calmness of death wash over her. _

_"Is this the girl?" One man asked, in his broken English, and another man replied. A man whose voice she knew. _

_"No. She must be in the bedroom." _

_"Then we do not need this one either," the first man continued, and the second man stopped him. _

_"No, do not shoot. The demons have told me we must let her live." _

_Adila almost snorted at the idea that some story of demons might stop a man from killing her, but, to her surprise, she heard no gunshot. _

_"Of course." _

_"The bedroom." _

_Her eyes flew open—Saki, her twelve-year-old sister. She leapt at the man, "NO!" _

_But Saki was already gone, blank eyes staring straight ahead. The first man left. The second stared at Adila for a split second. She did not know his name, or anything about him. She only saw him every day at the market. But apparently that had been enough to save her life. _

_"What is your name?" She choked out. _

_"Midnite." _

_"You could have saved her! I heard what you did for me! You could have saved her with the same simple words!" _

_"Adila," he paused, as if to ponder his next words, "The prophecies need blood." _

_- _

Thirty years had since passed the incident. Within the ten years following, she had found herself to be, unfortunately, occupying the same circles as this warrior-turned-witchdoctor, even practicing the same rites as she did to fulfill her training in prophecy. The desert prophets demanded a taxing amount from the paladins who wished further education in the art, and it was Adila and Midnite that sought truthfully—and thus were able to complete training. And, as she stood by Midnite to swear her allegiance to the balance, her blood coursed hot through her veins and she still could not forgive or trust him, even as they swore to give their lives for the same ultimate purpose.

"We might be guardians of the balance, _Midnite_, but remember that Lucifer is Satan for a reason. He doesn't play by the rules." Adila whispered poisonously before turning on her heel and leaving in the same whirl and drama as she had entered.

-

A/N: Wow, it's been a really long time! Not only that, but this chapter is just furthering plot—so no J/A fluffiness, I'm so sorry guys. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed in my absence, and I promise I'm going to be updating this MUCH more frequently. I love you all. You're so great. You could review and give me more of a reason to think that way…hehe.

-Jake


	21. XXI: Revelation

Part XXI: Revelation

-

John leaned over so his nose was inches from Midnite's, "What the _fuck_ was that."

-

Jade sat stoically on the couch, staring out the window. Chas glanced over at her every couple of seconds as he flipped pancakes on the stove. It was nearly noon and Jade hadn't spoken a word to him since she'd awoken around five am screaming. Her cat nuzzled its black head against her arm, but Jade ignored it, and the miffed Isis hopped off the couch and into a corner to find something more interesting than her catatonic owner. Chas poured himself a cup of orange juice and sat stiffly on the couch next to Jade, placing the cup and a plate of pancakes on the dusty coffee table. Without a glance in her direction, he picked up a newspaper and disappeared behind it.

Several uncomfortable minutes later, Jade cleared her throat.

"There are three of them."

The paper lowered just enough that she could see the curly mop of Chas's head, "Huh."

"Of the amulets, there are three. And they're connected."

"Mmph."

"Psychically connected."

The paper lowered more—now she could see his brown eyes as well.

"I need your help."

-

Midnite stared evenly back at John, "She is right. The prophecy is in effect."

Angela shifted, her reflexes restless.

"But we have nothing to worry about."

"That's correct, John. Because as long as she is here, Lucifer cannot touch you. You are cleansed. And he cleansed you."

Angela raised one eyebrow, "In my experience, Adila is right. The devil does not play by the rules, Midnite."

"Of course, Angela, he hedges around them. But all must play by certain rules. And blood is one of those. There are escapes to prophecies, but they always result in one of pure bloodline to that of the chosen. In this case, Jade Constantine is that bloodline."

"So Jade is in danger." John muttered, unable to decide how much he cared about that fact.

"Jade is your protection." Midnite replied calmly.

-

Chas sighed, "How am I supposed to help you? I don't know anything about these amulets." He kept his face passive, but Jade could see the twinkle of curiosity in his chocolate brown eyes. She knew she'd hooked him into it.

"Earlier…" Jade paused, and Chas lowered his newspaper, "I think I was linked to the third wearer of the amulet. Not Angela—she has the second one—but someone else. They were…thinking, I guess, about something…some prophecy…something happens at midnight?"

Chas leaned forward, intrigued and unable to hide it, "What did they sound like? I mean, could you tell the gender? Were they upset? Calm? In trouble?" He hastily reached for a pen and started scribbling to find ink on the edge of the newspaper.

"I…I don't know what gender…but they were…in pain." Jade closed her eyes, trying to recreate the sensation of being pulled from one plane to the other. Color swirled in her mind, faster and faster, until she felt like she was going to be sick. Shaking her head, she opened her dark eyes.

She was met by the sting of wild wind, and her dark hair flew wildly about her face. Pushing it hastily behind her ears, she took in the rusty plains of what she had now come to know as Hell. She wrapped her arms around her, protecting against the wind, sulfuric heat, and empty cold.

"CHAS!" She screamed, disoriented, as it turned into a whimper, "Chas, where are you?"

-

John and Angela exited Midnite's into a rainy dusk. John pulled his coat closer to his body, and turned to Angela who was looking up as a rain drop fell on her eyelash.

Angela blinked and looked down to see the road swirling with orange dust and crimson blood droplets. It was raining in Hell.

Almost as soon as she had entered, she was pulled back roughly by John's hand on her shoulder. Her long lashes blinked up at him as she saw a particular dawning tumble through his brown eyes. His eyes widened slightly at whatever he'd just calculated, and he grabbed her hand nearly dragging her to the car.

"What, John, what is it?" Angela asked breathlessly, but John just waved off her inquiries.

"Jade…" He muttered, as he swerved in and out of traffic on the highway.

Angela gripped the armrest, "John, you've got to slow down!"

He turned to her, his eyes narrowed, "Angela, I can—"

-

In the split second Jade closed her eyes, she opened them screaming his name. Chas reached for her, but she fought his hands, hysterical.

"Jade!" Chas yelled, securing her hands at her sides, "Jade, it's me! It's okay!"

Jade's brown eyes finally focused on the angel in front of her. She took a deep breath and threw herself into his arms. Chas wrapped both arms around her, pulling her into his lap.

"Why…why does this keep happening to me?" Jade whispered into Chas's chest, pushing herself slightly away from him. She looked up into his eyes, and he gulped audibly.

"Uhh…" Chas articulated, focusing stoically on a point far over her right shoulder. Jade tilted her head and looked at him, but he continued to move his gaze around the room—everywhere but directly at her.

Jade gathered her hair and flipped it over her shoulder, resting one hand on the back of Chas's neck.

Chas looked distinctly uncomfortable, and he started stuttering again, "Uhh…J-John's probably on his way b-back, now, and…"

Jade quirked an eyebrow at his nervousness, "All you ever think about is John, Chas."

Chas avoided her gaze, "N-no, I just think that he's p-probably—"

-

Angela looked up just in time to see the Ford F-150 crumple into the little Honda.

-

Chas looked up just in time to see Jade wet her lips and lean into him.

-

What? Chas and Jade? Who would've thought…hehehe.

Thanks so much for keeping up with this story…So sorry my updates are rather erratic. It's almost over, though! How exciting. Haha, anyway, I have some big projects that I'm actually working on for…oh yeah, that whole college thing. For the people who care, I'm a dramatic writing major at New York University—which means two things. First, I should be writing like I'm in one of the best art schools in the country, and second, that the Tisch school of the Arts is sucking my creative genius out of my soul (along with my money). So…um…yeah, give me a little bit of a break, I guess, but not too much of one. Anyway, special thanks to those of you who reviewed since my last chapter: morph, Ithilwen6, Issay, Evelyn Valerious, Cali, Osage, JimmyNoName, Karaoke Risa, angie232, rickid, Karigan Marie, Believer29, Drodjan, Matthew D Curry, Kim, moppl, and avaleighfitzgerald.

Kisses,

lil jake (I'm a girl, by the way.)


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